


Be as you've Always Been

by iisintrovert (Ghostlyfallows)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Agramon (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Alec is a knight from a noble family, Alec is touch-starved, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 3: City of Glass, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Fear demon - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Shadowhunters characterization with City of Glass adjacent plotlines, Swordplay, erotic swordplay, heavily inspired by hozier songs, homoerotic fight scenes, mlm author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostlyfallows/pseuds/iisintrovert
Summary: Alec is the eldest child from a long line of Nephilimin the kingdom of Idris, expected by everyone around him to be heavily involved in Clave politics when he is knighted on his 19th birthday. When he witnesses the death of a well-known Shadowhunter, and the only suspect is a mysterious mundane knight by the name of Magnus who claims the demon Agramon is attempting to bring down Alicante from the inside, he throws himself into the investigation headfirst.Magnus claims he can teach Alec the secret to beating Agramon, the fear demon, but he must first face his greatest fear.Alec isn't ready to face his fears.Enemies to begrudged allies to loversPrompt: Which one of you bests the other in a homoerotic fight scene and tips the other's chin up with the tip of your sword, and which one of you distracts the other long enough to win in the end?
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Isabelle Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter One: No Masters or Kings

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself after watching a 250 video playlist on youtube of every Magnus & alec scene + listening to Hozier all week. 
> 
> Heavily inspired by CoG, but if you've watched the show you won't need to have read the books to understand what's going on.

The rain came down in sheets, obscuring most things farther than a few feet away from Alec’s view. He sprinted into the darkened streets of Alicante, his dimly-lit seraph blade at his side. His parents had broken off from him a few minutes ago, but it felt like he’d been running on his own for hours. His chest burned with his excited breathing. He should have been more fearful - he knew demons had been sighted on the outskirts of the town, but the excitement from gripping the seraph blade and being trusted by his parents to get back to his home alone brewed in his heart. He’d never been allowed out on a mission before. He’d only been given his first rune a few weeks ago. 

Alec had been returning to the city with his parents when they heard the news. The urgency of what was happening was the only reason he was allowed out on his own. His parents were always protective of him, never letting him join in on the hunts the Shadowhunter knights went on whenever demons were sighted in Idris.

He’d never even seen a demon up close. 

He was brought back from his thoughts when he heard a pained cry for help to his right. He skidded to a stop, his boots catching on the cobbled street. 

Alec first thought it was his own imagination. He stood perfectly still, listening for that voice again. 

After a few moments, he heard it. “ _Hello?_ ” 

A small voice resonated from a pile of black by the brick building closest to him. When Alec took a step closer, he saw a frail blonde head lift from the pile. It wasn’t a pile, but a boy, wearing all black clothing. He looked about ten, two years younger than himself. When Alec took a step closer, he could see the puddle of darkened rainwater where the boy was curled up on the ground. His face was dirty, rivulettes of rainwater dug streaks down his cheeks. He wasn’t wearing back, he was covered head to toe in ashes and soot. The original color of his clothes was impossible to determine. 

“What happened?” Alec asked, attempting to take on the stern and calm voice his father used in situations like these. That voice always made him feel like his father had everything under control.

It was also the voice that frightened him when he was in trouble, or when he realized he had asked his parents for too much. Alec shook his head and tried again when the boy said nothing. 

“My name is Alec Lightwood,” he said as he fell to his knees, his voice gentle this time, softer, only loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain. “Do you need help?”

The boy looked him in the eye for the first time. His eyes were wide and piercing, one black and one blue. His frame shook and from where Alec was kneeling, he reminded him of a lost baby bird. 

“Jace,” the boy coughed out. His voice was raspy, like he had ran here as well. “My father is dead.” He was deadly calm, in his voice and expression. 

Alec tried not to let the shock appear on his face. He muted his emotions like he’d practiced and nodded grimly. He stuck his hand out to help Jace to his feet. 

The darkened palms and dirty fingernails of Jace’s hand stuck out on his own bright white skin. Alec squeezed his hand, and Jace weakly squeezed back. 

“You can come home with me. My parents, they’re shadowhunters. They can protect us.

Jace said nothing When he lifted his shoulders, Alec realized he might be older than he’d previously thought. Alec glanced down at their joined hands and saw the dark black etch of a rune on the other boy’s skin. He was a shadowhunter, which meant his father had been as well. And he was dead.

“We can go now?” Jace asked, his grip firm despite his shaking frame.

Alec nodded, and Jace shakily rose to his feet. 

The blaring of the wards stopped suddenly, and Jace’s eyes grew wide. Alec turned to look over his shoulder towards where his parents had instructed him to run. 

“Come with me, they should be back soon. That must mean the demons are dead.”

“I know what it means,” Jace murmured. His voice was softer now that the air wasn’t filled with the loud blaring of the demon alarms. 

Alec held tight to his hand and dragged along in the direction of the Lightwood manor. 

\--

Alec gripped Jace’s palm and hauled him to his feet. 

Fighting alongside Jace was like second nature by now. They worked better as a team, even before their parabatai ceremony. Alec brushed the dirt off of his hands and noticed the stain of Demon blood, Ichor, on his armor. The only downside of the beaten leather armor was its propensity to stain. The armor was lighter, more flexible, but offered better protection from demonic claws and fangs than the heavy and brutal armor the mundane knights wore. It was also leagues more expensive. 

Jace shook his other hand off and sighed. “That was disgusting,” he noted, 

When he seraph blade had been knocked out of his hand. he had stuck his hand into one of the crow demons’ mouths and ripped its throat out, killing it. His left hand was covered in clots of red tissue and black blood.

Alec nodded his agreement and turned back to look down over the rolling green hill they caught the demons on. Alicante was a short ride away, but their horses ran off when they dismounted so close to the demon nest. Alec couldn’t see them anywhere. He brought his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle, but he doubted the horses would return when they could smell the stink of demon blood on his armor. 

Jace clapped his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Were you planning on riding back? Running is so good for the form.”

“Not as good if I don’t want to sweat my runes off,” Alec muttered. “I wish we had horses that weren’t so...skittish.”

“When I was a boy, my father had a horse that would stomp a ravenor demon down where it stood.” Jace mused.

“Really?” Alec asked, bewildered. Jace rarely spoke of his childhood, much less his father.

“No, but it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” Jace rolled his shoulders then leaned down to tie the laces of his boots tighter. “Come on, we don’t want to miss beef stew night.”

Alec knew Jace had something else on his mind, but followed him begrudgingly as Jace took off running down the hill. 

At a light jog, they made it back to the outskirts of Alicante in the better part of half an hour. When they were a few hundred strides away Alec could see their two horses grazing by the gate. A smile graced his lips, then disappeared. The closer they ran, the more horses Alec noticed. He counted five before he stopped and turned to Jace. 

The knights horses were trained to run to the gate if they were abandoned during a mission. No other active demon raids were scheduled for the day when they left that morning. 

Jace returned his gaze with steely unrest. Something was very wrong.

As they grew closer still, Alec remembered - a group of seven had planned for a routine check on a small village an hour or so out through the woods. An alarm had been sent to the Clave, but it claimed there hadn’t been a demon sighting. Nine horses were gathered now, in a clump by the entrance in the gate. They were covered in a sheen of sweat, and their breathing was labored. 

Alec whistled for his horse, but she didn’t come any closer. Jace strode up to the gate and called for one of the guards on the other side. 

“Hello? Anyone know what’s going on?” he yelled. 

The gruff voice of a guard responded from one of the postings at the top of the iron fence. “State your name and purpose!” he yelled. 

“Jace Wayland, I’m here to pillage and -”

“ _Jace,_ ” Alec hissed. One of these days, Jace’s antics were going to get them killed. “Jace Wayland and Alec Lightwood of Alicante, we were on a hunt. Crow demons, 3 miles west.”

The guard scrambled down the tower and clumsily unlocked the gate, swinging it open for them to enter. “My apologies, Mr. Lightwood, there was an alarm raised an hour ago and we’ve been expecting a returning team. You can understand my stress,” he said, almost pleading. “My name is Evan Hardsend.”

Alec nodded, reaching out to shake his hand. “I understand. If that’s the case, help us get the horses settled.”

The guard nodded eagerly and bowed low. “Of course, sir. Please accept my congratulations for your recent promotion.”

_Ah._ That’s where the behavior came from - the guard was hoping Alec would look favorably on him when he joined the shadowhunter knights in a few evenings. His family’s position had allowed for Jace, Isabelle and him to receive special positions in the highest and most important group of soldiers Alicante had to offer. They’d likely eventually become involved with Alicante politics, and knights of lower status would be looking to them for promotions. 

Alec knew why they never treated Jace and Isabelle the way they treated him - he was the oldest, male, and looked the most like both of his parents when they were his age. It didn’t matter that Jace and Isabelle were phenomenally better trained than he was. Blood bonds were more important in their culture, even more important than skill. 

Alec just hoped his siblings wouldn’t leak to the public his preference for archery over swordplay - there were already quite a few rumors running around about his family, he’d prefer “cowardly ranged weapon user” not be added to the list. 

“Are there plans to recover incase the mission went..south?” he asked the guard as he ushered in the skittish horses towards the barns on the inside of the gate. 

“We are going to send out rescue scouts in a few minutes.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Jace said, pointing out at one of the nearest hilltops. 

Alec followed the line of his arm and focused at the edge of the outcropping of trees. Emerging from the forest was a pair of men who looked worse for wear. 

As they got closer, Alec recognized Pangborn as the man leaning heavily on the other man’s shoulders. Pangborn was a shadowhunter who tagged along with groups of knights as an ambassador for the Clave. He was older, and rarely involved himself with missions that were expected to get bloody. He wore a badge of bright gold on his right shoulder to signify his allegiance with Alicante. 

The other man, Alec didn’t recognize from anywhere. He was wearing armor that matched Pangborn, save for the plume of gold on his right. He was of lower status, just a generic mundane knight. And yet, he was alive, even when the remaining five knights were nowhere to be seen. 

Alec only had enough time for these observations before the man supporting Pangborn yelled for their help. 

Jace and Alec immediately took off, Hardsend hot on their heels. 

When they were a few paces away, Pangborn shoved the other man away from him and screeched. Alec heard a hint of the name _Valentine_ in the cry, and it made goosebumps rise up on the back of his neck.

“Anson. _Anson!_ ” Pangborn cried again, now focusing on Alec.

He sprinted directly towards him, not held back by any visible injuries, despite the other man supporting his body weight only moments ago. _“What have you done with my brother, Morgenstern?”_

“Don’t let him touch you!” the mysterious man cried out, but it was unnecessary.

Pangborn dropped dead at Alec’s feet.

Alec gaped - he’d never been friends with the man, but he knew his parents had known him when they were young. He could count on one hand how many times they’d spoken to one another. Something about seeing him dead in the grass made his stomach turn, and he had the desire to retch. 

The oddest thing was, there wasn’t a hint of blood on his person. His hands even seemed clean. His seraph blades were in his holsters, and he had other smaller knives and arrowheads strapped to his belt, and none were as much as astray. And yet, he was dead on the ground. 

The other man stepped closer. He cursed under his breath. “I was hoping if we got here fast enough, someone would be able to cure him,” he murmured.

Alec hadn’t been able to notice anything besides his undeniable _mundane_ -ness until he was up close. He had an even, handsome face, even with his eyebrows drawn together in a tight scowl. His wayward hair was falling in his face and his brown skin was drenched in sweat. His eyes were deep, piercing, and particularly judgemental when they focused on Alec’s questioning face. 

Like Pangborn, he had no visible injuries. Not so much as a scrape. And yet, he was breathing laboriously and his shoulders seemed to be weighed down, like he’d just fought a long battle.

“Cure him of what, exactly?” Jace asked while Alec was struggling to make words appear in his throat.

The man didn’t lower his prying gaze from Alec’s face as he spoke. “He was driven mad, just like the others. And it’s not going to stop. We need to re-group, set up a team of well-trained men. I can teach them how to beat it, but I’ll need help, and resources.”

Alec swallowed thickly. This was all too much to take in. _Driven mad, just like the others,_ Alec thought. There were only a handful of things he could think of who had the power to do this kind of destruction without leaving marks. Magic, or curseres. Warlocks, Faeries, or…

He regained his composure by clasping his hands at the small of his back. He flattened his face like he’d seen Jace do so many times and clenched his jaw. “What did this?” Alec finally managed to spit out. 

“Agramon. He was driven mad, just like the others.”

Jace took a stumbling step back. “Agramon? The _Agramon?_ The fear demon?”

The man finally tore his eyes away from Alec’s shocked face, and turned to Jace. “No, his lady in waiting. Of _course_ it was the fear demon. What else could have done this?”

Jace’s eyes narrowed, and Alec sensed a fight. He placed a hand on his parabatia’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Where are the other survivors?” he asked. 

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re looking at him, Alexander Lightwood.”

Alec’s own name stung in his ears. The man spat his name out like it tasted of poison. 

“What’s your name?” the Hardsend asked, suspicion in his voice. 

He looked up from ruminating on Alec’s face. “Magnus.” He didn’t offer a family name, but it didn’t matter to Hardsend, because he was clearly mundane.

“Magnus,” the guard started. “Could you please help us get the horses inside? We can discuss the death toll in a moment.”

The man - _Magnus,_ Alec repeated in his head - raised an eyebrow in muted confusion, but he was clearly too exhausted to protest. 

When Magnus was busy with a particularly nervous horse, Hardsend beckoned Alec and Jace’s space to follow him behind the barn. Alec shot Jace a questioning glance, but Jace’s expression remained steely and suspicious.

Hardsend was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands 

“I have a very bad feeling about this, sir,” he spoke directly to Alec. “This doesn’t add up. Six men are dead, but there’s no blood?”

Alec opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t sure _what_ this all meant. He didn’t like the accusation in Hardsend’s tone. Much less, he didn’t like the idea that it may be true. 

He took a deep breath and measured his response. Before he had the chance, Jace took over. 

“Hardsend… what you’re suggesting here, it’s very serious. We can’t just do this on a whim. Magnus will make a statement to his supervisor, of course, and I’m sure he can explain what has happened.”

Hardsend started to respond, but Jace raised a hand to stop him. “Six men are dead, and that means we have families we need to notify. We need to hear out Magnus’s story and try to get this sorted. If there really are no survivors, we need a scouting mission to recover bodies and take note of names and families. We need to notify the silent brothers, set up protections, start training groups to find the demon and kill it -”

“Sir, with all do respect, in the time it takes us to collect his full statement… well, he’s inside the wards already -”

“And we have this under control.” Alec said firmly. “I don’t agree with making rash decisions.”

Jace gave him a look of surprise. Alec didn’t know why - he was always expected to be the responsible one. When things went wrong on hunts because of Izzy or Jace, his parents always blamed him, and his decision-making. He found himself reigning in Jace and Izzy’s wild behavior at every turn. And still, Jace treated each disagreement with his urgent and spur of the moment decisions to be a betrayal. 

Alec found himself embodying the stern tone that mimicked his mother’s powerful persuasion. He hadn’t even been promoted yet, but he felt in control of the situation. Jace and Hardsend seemed to think so as well. Alec wondered how well this facade could be maintained if word got out that a mysterious young mundane with little experience in hunting was the only one to survive a demon attack.

“If we have plausible suspicion, we should keep him in holding until we understand what’s going on.”

Jace was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “Pangborn… he said Valentine’s name.” he murmured. 

Alec’s facade softened. The name of one of Alicante’s fiercest rivals, who was killed in a fire eighteen years ago, still struck fear in most shadowhunter’s hearts. He couldn’t be involved with this, but his name in Pangborn’s mind could be a clue to the presence of Agramon.

He turned to look at Jace, who stared back, emotionless. Alec sighed. “I don’t think we should prosecute him, but if he had any hand in this… this is exactly what it would look like. I say we arrest him, just to be safe. If he wasn’t involved, then we’ll have made the best decision. If he’s innocent, then he has nothing to worry about. 

“Nothing except the wrath of the Clave,” Jace muttered, but he didn’t press the issue. He looked at the toes of his boots and kicked at the gravel beneath their feet, as if he were already bored with their conversation.

Alec knew he was making the smartest decision, the decision his parents would make, the decision the Clave would likely make if someone higher up were here, but something in the back of his head still irked at him, something he couldn’t ignore. Like he missed something when Pagborn had lunged at him, or maybe he was failing to pick up on some clue Magnus had put down.

The Clave would react to his failure to notice signs harsher than they would Jace. He was watched more closely, expected to fulfill the Lightwood family name in skill and duty to the law.

He grit his teeth. “Do what you think is best,” he instructed Hardsend, trying to ignore the feeling of _wrong_ -ness settling like a pit in his stomach.

He tried to meet Jace’s eyes as Handsend trotted away in the midst of sending a fire message to other members of the guard. 

They walked back to the front of the stable, where Magnus was leaning heavily against the door of the barn. His hair was astrew, still, and he seemed to shake with all the weight of the world. Alec watched intently as a handful of guards approached him and began to speak in low tones. Magnus’s back snapped straight like a bowstring. 

His voice filled the square. “I’m the only one who knows how to stop it.”

The guards exchanged worried glances, and Magnus searched their faces for something. He scoffed, then took a step away from them, only for one of the guards’ arms to shoot out and grab him by the bicep. Magnus raised an offended eyebrow at them, but was smart enough to not pull his arm out of his grasp.

Alec couldn’t hear their discussion, but he watched as Magnus’ slumped as he began to realize his defeat.

Magnus didn’t protest as Hardsend took his shoulder and pulled him towards the Guard, but his eyes never left Alec’s. The steely look in those eyes sent a shiver down Alec’s back.

At least they hadn’t handcuffed him. 

The Inquisitor strutted over from the group of guards around Magnus towards Alec and Jace. Alec clasped his hands behind his back and stood tall as Aldertree approached. Aldertree was a jovial and small man, with red cheeks and a wide, unsettling smile. He stuck his hand out to shake - first Alec, then Jace. 

“Thank you boys for letting us know about this situation. We have everything under control now.” 

He bowed low out of respect, but Alec still noticed the infantilizing language he used when addressing them.

“Aldertree, would you send notice to the Lightwood manor if there are any updates? I would like to follow this, as a witness and friend of Pangborn.” Alec asked. 

Aldertree’s smile didn’t waver, but it took him a moment to respond. “Of course, sir,” he said, bowing low again. “I’m sure this miscommunication will be settled soon. We will determine the truth from the mundane by any means necessary.”

This didn’t settle the lurking discomfort in Alec’s stomach, but he knew it was best not to disagree with the inquisitor. He didn’t want to get on his bad side, especially if he was to be knighted in three evenings. 

He gave Aldertree a curt nod and turned to Jace, who had wiped away his emotions and replaced them with a sullen, bored expression. He still couldn’t shake that feeling, but he pushed it down. He turned sharply on his heel and strutted past Jace, motioning for him to follow. 

\--

Magnus was still reeling from his interaction with the fear demon when the Inquisitor requested his compliance. Magnus felt even more uneasy as soon as the man had laid his eyes on him.

He’d felt a mixture of unease and disgust since they arrived at the village that morning. 

The demon showed its victims its worst fears. Magnus’ saw his own worst fear behind his eyelids most nights when he slept. It was a terrible aspect of his life, one that forced him to throw all of his energy into training and fighting. One that had him waking up at the earliest hours of the morning to throw himself into practice. One that stole his childhood from him and continues to steal his health through sleep-deprivation. 

He’d devoted so much energy and time to this city because of it, and now he was being investigated for a crime.

Magnus wasn’t a fool. He knew what a group of shadowhunter guards meant - he knew their curiosity about the events that transpired had reached suspicion. The ash black of their runes burned in the corner of his eyes. 

When the first shadowhunter had grabbed him by his arm, he’d known he could have had the upper hand. They weren’t prepared for battle. They grabbed him, knowing if he fought back, they would be authorized to use force, deadly force if it came to that. Magnus was certain he could have beaten them to submission, especially with the sword at his side. It was no seraph blade, but Magnus had never needed a seraph blade. 

He subdued his instincts to rip his arm from the shadowhunter’s grasp and went quietly. The handle of his sword burned at his hip, begging him to grasp it.

The moment he stepped inside the Guard, Aldertree’s shrill voice called out, “Now, please!”

The shadowhunter at his left side made quick work of unstrapping his belt and took his sword. The one behind him tapped at the inside of Magnus’ arms with the backs of his hands. Magnus lifted his arms obediently and allowed himself to be patted down. The man found three daggers and put them aside with his sword.

“Be careful, those are tempered steel,” he drawled, maintaining an air of bored reluctance. 

Aldertree gave him that tight, strained smile he hated. “No weapons allowed in the guard. I’m sure you understand, Mr. Bane.”

Magnus glanced at the shadowhunter guards, who’s seraph blades glowed in the dimly lit foyer. “Of course, sir.” he murmured.

“Excellent.” Aldertree turned swiftly on his heels and beckoned them towards an open doorway. “Right this way!” he called over his shoulder. 

Magnus stepped into the room and the shadowhunters lined up on the wall outside. He glanced back at them until Aldertree gestured at the chair in front of his desk with a flourish.

“Please. Sit. You can close the door behind you.”

Magnus closed the door, then hovered behind the small, uncomfortable looking chair. He eyed it like it would wrap him in chains the second his back touched it. 

“I’d rather stand, sir.”

Aldertree looked sour. “Very well.” He leaned forward until his elbows touched the surface of his desk. He stared deep into Magnus’ face, like one might admire a particularly interesting pinned butterfly, or beetle. “Curious. Very curious.”

“If I may, sir, what is required of me at this moment? I’m quite tired, and I -”

He trailed off when he saw Aldertree chuckle. “Let’s drop the charades, Bane.” His smile had vanished, and his voice had embodied the new sour tone of suspicion. “You hide it well, but I am not like your mundane brothers in combat. I can smell a lie.”

Magnus paused. He wasn’t sure which part of his story Aldertree considered a lie. He didn’t want to incriminate himself by mentioning something Aldertree hadn’t even considered. He swallowed deeply and spread his hands in front of him, palms up. 

“I’m an open book.” _Sniff away._

Aldertree scoffed and lazily flipped through a log book on his desk. He made a noise when he found Magnus’ name. His finger trailed down the list. 

“Magnus Bane… hailed from a small town in the outskirts of Idris, no known family members, joined the knights at 18, fought against the Circle in the resistance, and now, now you’re a demon slayer?”

“I didn’t kill it. It’s still out there, resting after the day its had. But next nightfall, I’m sure it will be headed right for the epicenter of power.” Magnus interrupted. 

Aldertree sneered. “Right,” he drawled. “You simply...escaped. The only survivor in a group of well trained men, and a village that housed a handful of shadowhunter families. And yet, you have no injuries. You seem perfectly healthy to me. Except -” Aldertree placed a finger on his lips, “you seem very nervous, Magnus.”

Magnus said nothing. His skin was beginning to grow hot. His fingertips tingled as the fight or flight response in his head made his whole body itch. In this situation, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight _or_ flee. So he froze.

Aldertree continued, “And we should trust you. We should let you have space in the training center, men, food, weapons. Because _you_ are the only one strong enough to defeat it.” He painted his face with that tight smile once more. “Can’t you see? It’s a perfect story. The mundane hero who helped Alicante slay a demon and saved Idris. All because you were able to best Agramon.”

It had been decades since it happened, but the sounds of his stepfather screaming were all too familiar. The demon had been able to replicate them, but his script was off. He had difficulty penetrating Magnus’ mind. Magnus took the millisecond of the Agramon’s falter to rip him out of his consciousness.

When he had opened his eyes, the entire village was in shambles. There wasn’t a hint of blood, fire, or wreckage, but the screams… Magnus shivered as he was escorted through the courtyard into the guard. He wasn’t harmed, not physically, but his body ached like he had been pierced with a thousand burning daggers. The only other person to survive the initial attack, Pangborn, was so weak he could barely walk.

And now, he was dead, too. 

Magnus wasn’t a fool. He knew how it looked.

It took all of his strength not to act surprised. Instead, he slowed his speech and gave a measured response. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting, sir,” he responded, his voice flat and calm despite the anger boiling inside of his chest.

“You say so much, and yet, you give away so little.” he murmured. “How old are you again, Magnus?”

“Thirty-six.” he bit out. 

Aldertree chuckled. “Interesting. Because you don’t look a day older since the day you were knighted.”

“Good genes, sir. Plus, I take care of my skin. I’m sure there are others who -”

“You’re just a mundane, and now shadowhunters are dead.” Aldertree interrupted. “Except…” a slow, sleazy smile spread across his lips. “You’re _not_ a mundane, are you.”

The question was slow, and spoken like Aldertree had already made up his mind. Magnus supposed he had. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Magnus maintained, but he knew his cheeks were likely flushed red.

“You’re under some kind of glamour. I don’t believe you’re a vampire, you would be burnt up from the sun exposure. That leaves werewolf, fae, or warlock. Which is it, Magnus?”

For once, Magnus was stunned. He swallowed, looking down at his feet. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that many people’s family members are dead after today, Bane. They are going to be looking for blood. A downworlder who snuck his way into the ranks of Alicante’s knights, who used his position of secrecy to murder a very politically active shadowhunter. And you returned from a dead city with no visible injuries, no blood. You don’t even have any family in Idris.” He sneered, laughing at the rage in Magnus’ expression. “Well, this is perfect. And with my re-election coming up, well. A common enemy unites.”

“It’s a lie. A lie you concocted to fill your political goals.” Magnus spat. 

“Not a lie, my dear boy, but a story. Stories bring people together. A good politician knows how powerful a good story can be. Now, the question is, are you going to give me what I want? I’m sure, with your cooperation, we could develop a very nice story indeed. One that, dare I say, may even be able to benefit the both of us, and both of our goals.

Magnus stared deep into Aldertree’s eyes. He’d met many of these kinds of men before. They didn’t care for other people’s wellbeing, and they’d do anything for power. Even frame someone with no definitive evidence. Magnus had seen the clave in action before - he knew how quick and judgemental they could be. Especially if the person in question had done something dishonorable, even if that dishonorable act was simply being a mundane or a downworlder. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

Aldertree grinned. “I want you to show me your mark, and tell me how you gained access to Alicante.”

Magnus said nothing. It was too late now to protest.

“Very well,” Aldertree sighed. “I was hoping this would go differently. You are a very smart man, I’m sure. A few days will wisen you up.”

Magnus lifted an eyebrow, and watched with bewilderment as Aldertree took a small kitchen knife out of his desk and pressed it to his cheekbone. A droplet of blood ran down his face. He reached out with the knife, and for a moment, Magnus thought he was going to stab him. He lifted his hands reflexively, and Aldertree pressed the handle of the knife into one of his palms. With his other hand, he closed Magnus’s hand around the handle of the blade and shook it, like some awkward handshake.

“I’m sure a few days in the basement will make you rethink what I have to offer. If we’re lucky, by then your mark will have shown itself already.” Aldertree sneered, then made his face into a terrified expression and shouted in a shrill voice. “Guard! Guard, please! He’s attacking me!”

Magnus stared at Aldertree, frozen with a shocked and confused expression on his face, as the guards threw open the door and grabbed him by his arms, roughly manhandling him into the hallway.

\--

Alec twirled an ornate knife in his hand, staring at the blade with a lazy curiosity. He was listening halfheartedly at the conversation erupting around him in the living room. He’d received notice from Aldertree about an hour previously that Magnus was staying at the guard until suspicions were cleared, but he was positive they’d get the problem sorted out soon.

That was enough to calm Jace and him, but not enough to completely get rid of the nagging feeling in his gut. Pangborn, and five other men were dead, and their families had been notified. The knights still hadn’t been dispatched, and there wasn’t a plan to eliminate the threat of the demon Agramon attacking again. The shadowhunter knight who had delivered the news seemed to think the threat of the demon was non-existent.

Alec tried to entertain himself by enjoying his cousin’s company, but they were almost as aggravating as the feeling in his stomach.

Aline and Sebastian Penhallow were visiting for the Lightwood sibling’s promotion later that week. They weren’t close, and they had very different personalities. Jace and Isabelle were no better - because their cousins were over, and their parents were busy with “official Clave business” most days and nights, they had brought out a few bottles of wine and were indulging and telling stories about their training. 

Alec looked up at Jace as he told a particularly rowdy story from his perch on the back of one of their plush couches. His parabatai had a very handsome face when he smiled.

Alec sighed and looked back down at his hands.

Magnus also had a handsome face, behind the frightening stern expression he had worn that afternoon. Alec couldn’t get his eyes out of his head. When he saw Alec watching him from the outskirts of the courtyard when he was arrested, he had stared him down. Alec hadn’t been able to look away. He looked… betrayed.

Alec realized his influence with older members of the Clave and lower members, like knights and guards, even shadowhunters like Hardsend. His parents had raised him with the politics of Alicante in mind. Growing up in their household, Maryse and Robert’s negotiation strategies bled into their parenting. He was always treated like a suspect of a crime, not a child who made a mistake. His upbring had prepared him for situations like these, situations where the power in play between mundanes and Nephilum, knights and shadowhunters, people with family connections and those with no family at all.

Most children didn’t need this kind of preparation. It had certainly left him with scars he wouldn’t be able to heal, even in adulthood. But, the more Alec thought, the more he was curious of how influential he could be, given the circumstances. 

He wasn’t sure how much more time had passed when he was thinking to himself when Sebastion stood up, stretched, and said “I’m going to go for a walk. Anyone care to join me?”

Alec stood up before he let himself think a second longer. “Which way are you headed?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Just around.”

Alec reached for the back of the couch and grabbed his traveling cloak, pulling it over his shoulders and fastening it at his throat. “I’m going to the Guard.”

Jace eyed him, but said nothing. 

“Any particular reason?” Aline asked.

Alec shook his head and made eye contact with Isabelle, who had the same muted curiosity on her face that Jace had. “It’s um… official business. I need to run a message to the Inquisitor. Something about what happened today.”

It wasn’t completely a lie. “Sebastian, you can’t come with me.” he added, just to be safe.

Sebastian lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, I understand. Anyone want anything from the market?” he asked, but Alec was already gone. 

\--

The streets of Alicante were usually busy this time of night, during the sunset, but with knighting ceremonies and re-elections of multiple Clave positions coming in the following weeks, the windows of homes glowed with candlelight and few people were out on the streets. Alec was lucky not many people were there to witness him running towards the Guard. He didn’t want anyone to know about his scheme, not yet. If he’d learned anything from growing up as a Lightwood, he knew timing was everything. 

When he saw the large stone towers of the Guard ahead of him, he circled around the back of the building. He hadn’t planned this far in advance. He looked up at the various windows on this side of the building, trying to discern which one Magnus might be staying in. He didn’t know how residence differed at the Guard from the knight’s quarters across the square. Even if he did find the right window, what would he do? Was he to throw stones at it, like a disillusioned lover?

When he stepped back to think, he heard an airy laugh from below him. He jumped and scrambled backwards, almost falling over. 

“With all the grace and elegance of a Nephilum,” the voice said, from the same place at Alec’s feet. 

When he stepped closer, he realized the voice was coming from one of the barred grates at the very bottom of the stone wall of the Guard. Those grates were meant to be windows into cells. The cells at the bottom of the Guard usually held heinous criminals, like murderers or downworlders who attempted to break into the wards of the city. 

Alec’s heart grew cold. “Magnus?” he asked, hoping he’d been mistaken.

“Are you here to rescue me, sweet prince?” the man drawled. Alec fell to his knees to look into the grate, and saw a familiar face in the darkness. 

His eyes were obscured, in part by the shadows of the unlit room, and by his blue-black hair, which had fallen into his eyes in tendrils. 

“What are you doing here?” Alec asked, putting on his firm voice without realizing it.

“Oh, the Inquisitor set me up with the best suite in the place. Isn’t it nice? I’d invite you inside to see the bathing room, but there are bars on my window.”

“Stop messing around,” Alec hissed. “Why are you in there?”

Magnus let out a humorless chuckle. “People don’t trust me naturally like they do you, Nephilim.”

“Stop that.” Alec muttered. 

“What? Sorry I can barely hear you from -”

“My name is Alec, and I want to try to help you.” Alec bit out. He was beginning to regret his original decision to come and visit the man in the cell. 

His presence in the cell was alarming, to say the least. Aldertree had neglected to mention that Magnus “staying” at the guard for the time being 

“I already know your name, Alexander. Don’t you remember?”

Alec thought back to earlier that day, when Magnus had greeted him by his full name. He’d stared into him and tied his tongue in knots with just his eyes.

“How _do_ you know my name?”

Magnus scoffed. “You’re a golden boy, just like your brother. You’re somewhat of a legend among the knights. Everyone knows that as soon as you join us, you’ll be on track to become commanders.”

Alec blushed. “We… we have connections in our family. I’m doing my best to use them wisely.”

“Using them at all is unfair.”

Alec flinched, taken aback. “I can’t help that being in a shadowhunter family has given me certain privileges.”

“And _I_ can’t help that I’m being held against my will for a crime I didn’t commit because the Inquisitor wants to bolster his chances of reelection.”

Alec sighed. “He’s the inquisitor. He’s in charge of all this. He gets to decide what the best course of action ”

“And he’s a liar, Alexander. He’s concerned with power and control and re-election, much like the remainder of the Clave.” Magnus’s expression wasn’t visible, but Alec could tell from his voice that his lips were curled up in disgust. “Don’t you think it’s unfair one man has all of that power?”

Alec opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed. 

A flash shot across the bottom half of his vision. Magnus’ hand gripped him by the wrist. “Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you think the Inquisitor is doing the right thing here. The _just_ thing.”

Alec gritted his teeth. Magnus’ hands were smooth and warm, very unlike his own hardened calloused palms from years of sword fighting and archery. Alec knew there was a silent message in the way Magnus’ fingers wrapped around his skin. The feeling of his skin on his own burned. And yet, Alec didn’t pull away. _Why wasn’t he pulling away?_

This time, when he swallowed, he felt a heavy lump in his throat, distracting him from his original intentions. His eyes were locked where Magnus’ skin met his own. He felt dirty. 

When he did speak, his words had lost the stern power he had forced under them earlier. His voice sounded like a plea. “I already believe you didn’t kill that village. I’m just - I need to do this right. I need to go through the proper channels. I can advocate for you, vouch for you, I can convince the Clave because of my position.”

“Your kind always wants to act the hero. Take a hint, _Nephilum._ I’m not the helpless, pathetic mundane you think I am.”

Alec seethed with anger, but before he could respond, Magnus let go of his wrist, and the heat was gone.

“On second thought, I don’t think you’d be able to take a hint if one hit you in that handsome face of yours.” Magnus spat.

Alec ran his hand through his hair and pulled, using the sting to ground himself to keep him from losing his temper. ““I was going to help you, but I have a feeling you don’t want me here. Why should I help you if you don’t even want it?”

“Then _don’t_. See if I care. I won’t.”

Alec huffed and got back to his feet. He’d rarely felt this angry before. He wanted to sprint away until his lungs burned and his skin was hot and sweaty under his loose clothes, his cloak muddy at the hem with the dirt he’d kick up. He should have known this was a mistake. He shook his head and gave one last glance down at the cell. Magnus had disappeared back into the dark, probably to sulk. Alec rolled his eyes and took off back towards the manor.

\--

Magnus stared into the dark corner of his cell and flopped down on the wooden palate that served as his bed. 

A rat crawled up to his boot, and looked up at him, its nose twitching. 

“Do you think he still likes me? Was it something I said?” Magnus asked the rodent. It sniffed at his toes, then ran away into the darkness. 

Ah, well. He was always more fond of cats, anyways. 

\--

When Alec returned to the Lightwood manor, he found Max curled up in the foyer.

“Max,” he whispered, trying to gauge if he was awake or not.

Max looked up, his eyes even larger than usual through his thick glasses. He was a very small boy, at 11 he could have easily passed for nine. He was less interested in training and more in books, which was apparent by the large leather bound cover he was gripping onto.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Alec gently shut and locked the manor door behind him and kicked off his boots. “It’s well past time for you to be in bed,” he answered softly, but firmly. 

Max huffed. “I couldn’t sleep, not with Isabelle and the cousins making so much noise.”

Alec noticed he didn’t include Jace. He wasn’t sure if that was because his younger brother always idolized Jace more, or if Jace was really up to something else. He made a mental note to check in with his parabatai before he retired for the night. 

“Alec, is it illegal to climb on the demon towers?” Max interrupted him from his thoughts. 

Alec paused. “Why would you ask that?”

Max looked out towards the window above the front doors. “I thought I saw something earlier. At sunset.”

“That’s impossible. Someone would have caught them, and they’d get in trouble. It was probably just a dream.”

“I’m not even sleepy,” Max said, although he yawned directly after. 

With a fond smile, Alec stepped over and took Max’s hand. He helped him to his feet and took his book, marking the page and placing it on the end table by the coathanger. “Let’s get to bed, hm?”

Max nodded, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He trudged up the stairs, giving Alec a halfhearted wave as he went. 

Alec sighed and leaned against the wall. He rubbed at his forehead and unclenched his jaw. Part of him was still frustrated and confused from his conversation with Magnus. Seeing his younger brother always pulled at his heartstrings - he understood how frustrating it could be to be a child, old enough to understand what adults were talking about, but not old enough to be allowed to listen. With all of his near-adult cousins and siblings, Max felt left out. Alec promised himself he’d find something fun for all of them to do in the next few days.

He only heard the footsteps when they were a few feet away. Alec opened his eyes and jumped. 

“Jace,” he breathed. “You’ve got to stop doing that, you’ll give me a heart attack.

Jace grinned. His footsteps were always light, almost silent, even when he was running. It had been like that even before he got his stealth ruin. 

“You were out talking to Magnus, weren’t you?” he asked. Jace didn;t like to waste time.

Alec looked down at the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never do.” his voice had changed from airy calm to frighteningly stern.

If it were the only thing he could stand to hate about Jace, it was the way he expressed his anger. Jace knew how to shut down all of his emotions until only a sliver of them was visible behind the eerie calm of his voice and expressions. When he was angry, his face turned into a mask of calm. The near-imperceptible heat in his words stung harder than any blow could.

Alec also knew that Jace’s decision making became even more rash and unpredictable when he was angry. His tendencies usually landed on the side of self destruction, but that was magnified when he was frustrated at someone he loved. Or worse, himself. That was more frightening than if Jace had decided to punch him.

They’d almost had this conversation too many times. Alec was terrified of what would happen when it finally exploding taking their friendship, their brotherhood, their parabatai bond with it.

“He’s a good-looking guy,” Jace said, his voice neutral. 

“What are you saying, Jace? Alec asked with bated breath.

He opened his mouth, but what Jace had planned on saying was never said. His expression went from confused, surprised, to utterly shell-shocked in a matter of moments as his speech was interrupted by the piercing alarm of the demon towers. 

Alec threw the front door open and peered out at Alicante. At the horizon of his vision, the towers of the guard were on fire.

He met Jace’s eyes. The shared a silent, one-word conversation. _Magnus._

The two parabatai took off towards the guard. “We’ll talk about this later,” Jace hissed.


	2. Chapter Two: Don't Hold Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus navigate their plan for stopping Agramon. Magnus is hiding something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while listening to Mitski's Lush, so take that into account.

As Alec sprinted through the streets of Alicante, Jace hot on his heels, he felt the hilt of his seraph blade crashing against his hip where it was strapped to his waist. As his mind spiraled elsewhere and everywhere, the familiar pulse of his blade at his side as his legs pumped helped to ground him. 

The tall, _adamas_ obelisques that were usually visible from all parts of Alicante, glowing in the dark, were now as ordinary as polished stone. The wards, Alicante’s ultimate shield against demon attacks, were down. 

When Jace and Alec arrived at the Guard, smoke was billowing from the four brick towers.

Jace stared, mouth wide open, but Alec grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the back through the bushes where the entrance to Magnus’ cell was. Alec fell to his hands and knees in front of the grate. 

It was dark now, but he couldn’t see anything inside the cell except dark, acrid smelling smoke.

Alec’s throat felt incredibly dry, and his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth clumsily when he yelled into the darkness, “Magnus?”

A terrible, silent moment passed before Alec heard a shaking cough. A hoarse voice responded, “Come to rescue me, prince?” 

Alec was terribly aware of Jace’s presence standing a few feet back from the grate, but the site of Magnus’ fingers weakly gripping the bars made his hesitance wash away. “We’re going to get you out.”

Magnus reached further and grabbed Alec’s hand. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.” If Magnus hadn’t been severely deprived of air, the words likely would have carried a biting sting.

Alec ignored it. He gripped his wrist back and a small smile passed over his lips.

Then suddenly, Magnus pulled away from him, and his arm disappeared into the black smoke. He screamed, _”Go away.”_

\--

Maintaining the fleeting effects of his glamor had already been difficult with all of his strength zapped from facing Agramon. Hungry and cold and damp in an underground cellar, it had been even harder. Magnus had put so much work into carefully crafting a layered shell that exuded normalcy, and he’d failed to save himself enough energy to maintain it for another handful of hours. All his hard work would be ruined if Aldertree managed to smoke him out.

His mark was just one part he was hiding. By throwing himself into his handcrafted role of orphan boy-turned knight he disguised the more subtle effects of his… condition. The way his hands moved, the impossible lightness in his steps, the lingering magical feeling he liked to call his “irresistible warlock charm” (which Ragnor so inappropriately called his magical stench), would all come back in full force after nearly a decade of disguising them so intentionally for most of his waking hours. Magnus couldn’t help but realize how freeing it would be to no longer need to hide. 

That realization was quickly swept away at the thought of the Clave burning him at the stake, or whatever the Nephilim were doing to downworlders who broke through their walls these days. 

He shook with the exhaustion of holding back, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d always been better than apothecary than glamors. And even worse at lying to himself.

When he first smelled the smoke, he thought Aldertree had taken _smoke him out_ too literally. It wasn’t until he heard the screaming when he realized he was being abandoned. 

He’d stood up and rushed at the bars at the front of his cell - silver and iron, to deter him from breaking them if he had been a lycanthrope or fae - and cried out for a guard, but no one came. 

He still wasn’t sure if it was a test, so he paced in circles, trying to devise a plan. He turned on his heels and stared at the grate to the small dirt lot outside, the one Alexander Lightwood had spoken to him through only an hour previously. He grit his teeth. He supposed he could blast through it if it came to that, but that would involve getting rid of his glamour and being unable to re-assume it before he rested and reached his supplies. Rest was essential at this point. He had been pushing himself past the brink of exhaustion for so many hours, he felt like he was constantly falling.

_Fuck this smoke,_ he thought. He couldn’t think through the sour smell filling the room. 

Suddenly, as he stared at the slits in the metal bars blocking his way, a face appeared. 

“Magnus!” Alec Lightwood yelled. 

He’d jumped at the sound of his own name. 

_You came back,_

He could barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. He knew they were probably nasty. That was his first barrier before his glamor. 

Magnus hadn’t been able to control himself when that smile graced Alexander’s mouth. He’d tried to bite and hiss, refusing to go quietly, but Alexander only smiled at his attempt at an insult, his warm fingertips at the pulse in his wrist, and Magnus felt the cool sensation of his glamour blowing away. It evaporated into the thick haze of smoke that was making him dizzy.

No one had been able to strip his layers away with such ease.

He stayed like that for a moment, staring at his fingers gripping Alexander’s arm like his only lifeline - he supposed it was - like this was all a dream. A split second later he realized he was seeing, really seeing, and he squeezed his eyes shut and rocketed backwards. He clapped his hand over his eyes and curled up on the stone floor.

He shouted out, but his voice was weak. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and prayed, for whatever insane reason, Alexander hadn’t seen his eyes. 

All the smoke, events of the day, and the tingling feeling on his skin leftover from his burnt-out glamor pushed him finally over that brink into the deep, deep abyss below.

Metal wrenched away from creaking metal, and a rushing breeze sounded in his ears. He felt arms wrap around him, and he was too weak to fight against them. 

A gruff, annoyed voice resonated against the back of his skull. “Quit struggling, I’m trying to help.”

In his half-unconscious state he knew it wasn’t Alexander’s voice, or his arms. 

“Is he dead?”

_There, that one._

Magnus rolled over onto his side in the dirt and retched, his hand still planted firmly over his eyes. There was nothing in him to throw up, so he heaved another rattling cough until he had expelled the smoke from his lungs. He felt the two bodies hovering over him with a stinging awareness. He kept his eyes covered.

“It’ll take more than a little smoke to kill me,” he murmured. He wasn’t unaware that his words were slurred.

“What’s wrong, are your eyes okay?” Magnus couldn’t bare the tone in Alexander’ voice. He knew Alec’s eyes were looking at him gentle, too gentle, more gentle than he deserved. 

His hand gripped Magnus’ wrist. 

“No, _no!_ ” Magus urged, but even he knew his voice sounded weak. 

He didn’t have the strength to hold his hand over his eyes with Alec touching his skin. His hand fell away at Alexander’s prying, but Alec’s fingers didn’t leave his skin. Magnus gulped, too aware of his own breathing. Fear welled up in his chest like a sob.

“Don’t…” he tried, but it was too hard.

He heard Jace’s sharp intake of breath before he even opened his eyes. “Alec,” Jace said, a low warning, but Alec didn’t leave his side. 

The anticipation was too painful. Magnus dug his fingernails into the dirt below him and let his eyelids fall open.

Magnus knew how his eyes looked - they were inhuman and had the vertically slit pupils of a cat or a snake. The telltale mark of the demonic blood running through his veins, and the demonic power in his core. His eyes glowed yellow in the darkness. 

Alec dropped his wrist in surprise. 

_Put it back._

The two men gave each other a weighted look. Magnus knew what it looked like when two people knew each other so well they could have a whole conversation without opening their mouths. 

Barely a second passed, but it was torture. Magnus couldn’t even think of a scathing remark.

He stared up into the sky - the smoke billowing from the Guard filled the air above them, and the licking flames had filled its stone walls. The screaming had stopped. The streets of Alicante were deadly quiet. 

Magnus’ eyes wandered back to the pallor faces of the two men kneeling at his sides. Their conversation complete, Jace’s jaw set and brow furrowed, Alec’s bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“What do you need?” Alec asked, his hazel eyes searching Magnus’ face as he noticed him staring. 

_For you to lay your hands on me_

_Touch my wrist with your fingertips again_

Magnus shut that down. “Water,” he croaked out.

A rustling, then a hand on his chin. “Open up,” Alexander said. 

Magnus obeyed as the mettle coolness of a flask met his lips. He tried to surge forward and gulp it down, but another hand pushed him down by his shoulder. 

“Slowly, you don’t want to throw up.”

Magnus obeyed still, and drank as slowly as he could manage until the last drops were gone. When he was done, he let the flask fall to the packed dirt and grit his teeth. 

“I noticed you haven’t slain or cuffed me yet,” he said. 

Alexander’s gaze turned steely, but he said nothing. Jace rolled his eyes. 

“I only came along because I didn’t want Alec to make any stupid decisions. I’m not regretting it, but now I’m… hesitant.”

Alec gave his parabatai a furious glare. “The inquisitor thinks he killed those knights. This will just -”

“Did he?” Jace interrupted, his arms folded tightly over his chest.

Alexander’s eyes flickered back to Magnus’ face. His brows were drawn together and formed a deep furrow. Magnus saw hesitance in his eyes. That one moment of doubt in Alexander’s eyes hurt him more than any smoke in his lungs or fire on his skin.

“Trouble in paradise?” Magnus prodded, simply because he couldn’t help it. Alexander had laid out all of his weak spots, and he couldn’t resist pushing them. 

Alexander and Jace said nothing. 

He grit his teeth and continued. As much as his pride wanted to ignore them and refuse to justify himself, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight them off even if he wanted to. Magnus didn’t want to die. He needed their help, as much as it pained him to admit. 

“Look, I can’t force your hand. I’m too weak to force anything right now, even my glamor. If you _do_ return me to the Inquisitor, they’ll kill me without a second glance.” Magnus met Alexander’s eyes with the same furious intensity he returned. “I’m still the only one who can stop this. I knew Agramon would come back, and stronger. This is just proof. How could I have summoned him when you’ve seen me here this whole time?”

Alexander leaned back on his heels and clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes ran over Jace’s face, who’s expression hadn’t changed. They exchanged another momentous silent conversation. When they were done, Jace sighed and looked away, his face impossibly bored.

Alexander’s eyes dragged away from Jace’s and landed on Magnus. “What can we do?” He asked. 

He swallowed and sighed. Shadowhunters were so obviously trained for taking orders. “I need to go to my quarters. My ingredients are there. I trust, Lightwood, you understand that _no one_ can see us.”

“And after that?” Alexander prodded. 

“I repair my glamor, and you bring me to wherever the survivors of this attack are gathered. And you protect me.”

He set his jaw and nodded. He reached a hand out, and Magnus stared at it expectantly, until he realized he was supposed to grab it. What he thought was a handshake turned into Alec nearly ripping his arm from his socket as he hauled him to his feet. Magnus nearly fell over, but he managed to steady himself by grabbing onto Alexander’s bicep.

Alexander untied his cloak and threw it around Magnus’ shoulders. He tied it closed and pulled the hood up and low over Magnus’ face. “Perfect,” he murmured. 

He planted his hands on Magnus’ shoulders and gave him a half-hearted encouraging squeeze, like a friend or a brother, but his touch burned hotter than the smoke in the Guard. 

Magnus grabbed the edges of the cloak and pulled them tightly around his body, like he could shroud himself from the outside, and shroud the outside from himself. 

He didn’t watch, but he heard Jace touch Alexander’s shoulder and whisper something in his ear. He couldn’t tell what he had said, but Alec didn’t respond.

The knights quarters were only a block away, but they rushed through the courtyard, Alexander’s hand firmly in the center of his back. Magnus’ knees were weak from exhaustion, and Alexander’s continuous need to touch him at all the wrong times were making it even more difficult for him to stay upright. 

They were lucky enough to not see anyone in their mad dash to the quartering building. Alexander threw the door open and beckoned Magnus inside. Magnus immediately headed for the stairwell, and lead Alec up to his room. Magnus swore under his breath as he keyed open his door. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw his room was empty.

The building was eerily deserted. Magnus closed his eyes at the thought. He knew this was likely because the knights had gone right for the demon when it attacked. He gave a silent prayer that his roommate, Ragnor Fell, knew better than to engage with Agramon. 

Magnus fell to his knees by his bed and shakily lifted up the thin mattress on the wooden frame. Underneath, in a thin wooden box, were his remaining supplies. He placed them on the ground in front of him and rummaged through the small jars and boxes.

“Damn it,” he murmured. “I’m almost out of vampire hair.”

“Do you need them for the spell?” Alec asked.

Magnus sighed. “No, but they do cure the stomach flu in a pinch.” His fingers drifted over his materials, tossing ingredients into a flask like it was his second nature. 

When he was done, he waved his hand over the top of the mixture until a thin blue steam rose from the lip of the flask. Performing magic was so relieving. Magnus missed the gentle feeling of blue sparks under his fingernails. He much preferred it to the rough texture of a sword handle in his palm.

There was also something exciting in knowing Alexander was staring at him with rapt attention. 

Magnus took a sip and glanced over at Alexander, who was watching him with a red flush at the tops of his cheeks. Magnus smiled and stared. In a blink, his eyes turned back to their mundane deep brown. 

“Why hide?”

He could tell Alexander regretted his question as soon as it left his lips.

Alexander’s cheeks were flushed brightly pink, but he didn’t look away. He had the delicate features and neat clothes of someone brought up far away from danger, but the long fingers and scared arms of a practiced warrior. The dichotomy was confusing - it seemed Alec could paint his face with sharp edges and darkness to hide away any imperfect emotions. Here, he was vulnerable. Magnus wondered if his ability to strip away someone’s outer layers went both ways. 

Magnus’ hands paused in mid-air, and he sighed. He screwed the cap shut on his flask, tucked it into his pants pocket and looked at Alexander’s face with a calculated gaze. 

“I needed to be safe.” he said. 

Alec’s face twisted like he was waiting for more of an explanation, but Magnus wouldn’t give it up for free. 

“If you haven’t done anything wrong, why did you lie to the inquisitor?”

He hadn’t mentioned the inquisitor, but Alexander guessed correctly. He had lied to the inquisitor. Alec knew that much, but he was too oblivious to understand why. 

Magnus wanted to grill him, to lay into him about all of the parts of his life Alexander would never be able to understand, but he didn’t. “Do you trust me?” he asked. 

Alexander bit his lip. “The way it looks, Magnus -”

Magus slammed his fist on the floor. “I don’t give a damn how it looks, _Alexander_. What do _you_ think?”

“I can’t help but trust you,” he murmured. He stared at the floor, but Magnus could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes through his long eyelashes. 

It was more vulnerability than Magnus had expected, but he didn’t let his voice waver. 

“I care about my privacy, and my safety. That’s more than the Clave would be willing to give me. My kind aren’t even allowed to exist in Alicante unless we’re here to do your dirty work. Nephilim - you pay us meagerly for replenishing your health, for protecting your land, and you won’t even offer us protection behind your walls.”

Alec scoffed, but it sounded mechanical. “Warlocks have never asked for protection from us. The Clave -”

“ _Everyone_ wants protection, Alexander.”

“My name is Alec.” 

Magnus breathed, trying to remind himself that this was a _shadowhunter_ and he couldn’t expect him to be self aware. Or, as it seemed, take hints.

Alexander continued, “The Clave is hard, but they are good. Laws are important for keeping the order. They’re hard, but they’re fair. We all have to follow them, and none of us are above them.”

Magnus sneered. He sounded like a doll, repeating everything he’d been told for years. Magnus wondered if those words even sounded like statements after repeating them so many times. 

“You really believe that?” he asked, leaning closer. Alexander swallowed, hard, and Magnus tracked the movement of it with his eyes. “But you’re here, with me, because you know if you turned me in the Clave would be forced to kill me under their own laws. And you don’t agree.”

Alexander was beginning to look sick. “I -”

Magnus couldn’t handle the look on his face, so he shut his eyes. “I have my own motivations, and you have yours. We both want to destroy this demon, and you want to go through the Clave to do it. If we are to succeed, you need me. I need protection.”

“I can vouch for you. Say I saved you from the Guard when it was burning and was in your presence when Agramon attacked. They’ll believe Jace and I - we can convince them to let you help.”

Magnus nodded. “As much as I may have given away my distrust of Nephilim, I care about the lives of innocents. I do not want them to suffer because of the Clave’s bigoted refusal to accept those of my kind as allies against evil.”

“You just want to save them by lying to the Clave and working behind their back by breaking one of Alicante’s most sacred laws.”

“You know,” Magnus continued, as if Alec hadn’t spoke. He was sitting cross-legged, with one hand on the wooden floor in front of him to keep his balance, the knuckle of his pinky finger just brushing Alec’s knee through his pants.

It was a risky assumption, but Magnus understood the look in Alexander’s eyes. It was the same heated gaze other knights have given him in the bath house, dark-eyed mystification behind a layer of regret and calculated suppression. He leaned in closer. “I think you and I aren’t so different. We both have reasons to hide from the Clave.”

Alec breathed in sharply. He didn’t pull his knee away.

_Why don’t you pull away?_

“You don’t know anything about me,” he croaked. 

Magnus gave him a soft, regretful smile. “And you, nothing of me.” He leaned back and stretched, his finger pulling away from the warmth of Alec’s knee, and watched his pained twitch.

He stood and lied back on his bed. “I need to rest if my glamour is to be of any use in front of the Clave. Wake me up in twenty minutes.”

If he were a worse man, he would have called it blackmail. But they were equal, in this way. They both had secrets to keep, truths to hide under lock and key at all costs. As much as he was saddened by the look in Alexander’s eyes, as much as the core of him yearned to trust the other man, he knew it wasn’t smart.

Magnus needed to be calculated. He shut his eyes and found sleep in moments. 

\--

Alec sat back on the ground to the soft sounds of Magnus’ sleeping breathing. Thoughts were whirling in his head like arrows. They kept failing to fly true to their mark. 

He’d never imagined a situation like this. All his life he’d given his heart and sword to the Clave, training under his parent’s watchful eye, under Nephilum tutors hired by the Clave, his marks and checkpoints reported to the Guard. He’d made his own balance between his father’s silence in his successes and steely disappointment in his failures. Jace and Isabelle were perfect students, perfect shadowhunters, even in their wild abandon of rules and policies. Alec had to meet them where they were tenfold and do it all within the rules for his parents to give him a second glance. 

And he took it. He took it all, the pressure, the hurt, the bruises from falling over, and over, and over, even when he couldn’t nail a flip after practicing twenty hours and Jace soared with all of the grace of an angel. He’d made his peace with being held to a different standard than his siblings. He bore himself to the Law and was as loyal to the Clave as his parents. 

And yet, there was a part of him he was determined to keep secret. 

He wasn’t so different from Magnus. Another day, he would have thought that, and the voice of his mother would have floated through his head, reminding him of the Nephilum’s distaste for the downworld, despite their habit of contracting them to perform rituals or spells or dirty work. Today, he didn’t feel guilty or disgusted for comparing himself to Magnus. Something very different tinged in the base of his spine. Confusing, but different. 

Alec looked out the window. He used the movement of the moon to track the minutes. In his frenzied thoughts, he’d forgotten himself, and the moon had passed away from Magnus’ window entirely, now out of view from where he was sitting. 

Jace would be worrying for him in the Hall of the Accords. He’d whispered in Alec’s ear for him to be careful, that he would stall for enough time for them to get back when Magnus was glamoured. 

Alec was grateful for Jace’s trust, but he knew Jace did not like or trust the warlock. For once, Jace had the Clave in mind. 

Alec got to his feet and shook Magnus’ leg through his sheets. “Wake up,” he murmured, “we have to go, to avoid suspicion.”

Magnus’ eyes shot open, now deep brown and calmingly mundane. The glamour had held through his sleep. Magnus tossed his sheet aside and stood, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes. He was dirty from his time in the Guard cell, and he smelled strongly of smoke. He was also still wearing Alec’s cloak. 

The cloak was dirty too, muddy at the hem from sprinting through the streets of Alicante. Alec didn’t want to take it from him, so he hoped the grime would keep anyone from noticing it was too fine of a material for a mundane knight to afford.

“Lead the way, shadowhunter.” Magnus said, gesturing at the door. His voice was groggy with sleep from the short nap. 

He still looked beaten down and exhausted, with deep purple furrows under his eyes, but that look fit with the story of being dragged out of burning building after being interrogated by the Inquisitor, so Alec wasn’t worried. 

He turned on his heels and led Magnus swiftly out the door.

As the saying goes, “all roads lead to the Hall.” Alec lead them on a dash through the eerily silent streets of Alicante to the looming building of the Accords. He realized they’d been missing for about an hour now - if the silence indicated whatever battle had occurred was over, his family would be gathered in the Accords hall worrying about him. The thought alone made anxiety run through his veins. Alec hoped Jace had given them a good excuse. 

When the hall loomed ahead of them, his heart stuttered in his chest. The dead were lined in the courtyard in front of the hall. There were twenty bodies, arranged in rows. Alec’s breath stopped in his throat and he skidded to a stop. Alec hadn’t thought about the possibility of one of his family members getting caught in the attack. 

He swore and scanned the bodies, feeling guilt and relief when he didn’t recognize anyone he knew. He swallowed hard at the sight of little bodies among the adults in armor and shadowhunting weapons, with small hands curled into fists, or lying limp at their sides. 

He shook his head and glanced back at Magnus, who had a steely expression of grief on his face.

Alec made a wide circle around the bodies and ran up the steps of the accords, throwing open the large wooden doors. 

Bright candles and witch lights lit the crowd that amassed inside the hall - all of the survivors were gathered in sullen groups. Families hugged one another or stood, shocked and silent. Alec scanned for his family, using his height to look over the lowered heads of the citizens of Alicante for familiar faces. 

“ _Alec!_ ” 

Arms enveloped him and he leaned into the welcomed embrace of his sister. “Isabelle! Where’s -”

She shoved him back, eyeing him with a furious look. “Where the hell _were_ you? We were so worried!”

Alec spluttered. “I… I had to -”

She rolled her eyes and pulled him in for a second fierce hug. “Never mind, I can grill you later. You need to get over here.” she grabbed him by the hand and tugged him through the crowd.

Alec shot an apologetic look over his shoulder at Magnus, who followed him silently. 

He spotted a second familiar head of black hair, the arch of Jace’s shoulders, and his father, sitting on the ground. His brother Max was lying limp in his father’s arms, like he was sleeping. Alec fell to his knees and grabbed his little brother’s hand.

“He’s alright,” Isabelle said softly. “He was hit on the head with something. He has a bad concussion, but he’s going to be okay.”

Alec nodded. He had questions, but this wasn’t the time. 

“Dad -” he started, but Robert Lightwood fixed him with a glare. 

“Where were you, Alexander?” he asked. His voice was perfectly measured and calm, as it always was when he was furious. 

“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “This is -”

“ _Magnus bane.”_

Magnus’ eyes went wide. 

Victor Aldertree stood a few paces away at the dias at the north side of the hall. He stared accusingly at Magnus, who narrowed his own eyes. 

Alec instinctively stepped in front of Magnus, shielding him from view with his broad form. “Aldertree,” he said. “You left an innocent man in the Guard to die.”

Aldertree twitched slightly, then re-made his face into his falsely pleasant expression. “Mr. Lightwood, Magnus’ innocence is up to me to decide.”

“I would like to officially vouch for him.”

His father laid Max down on the floor and stood, his eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. Alec ignored him.

The Inquisitor’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a glint of anger in his eyes. A small crowd had gathered around them, looking up from their families to watch the strange interaction between the Lightwood boy and the Inquisitor. 

Aldertree seemed to realize the people watching, and swallowed. He bowed his head. “Very well,” he murmured. “Come with me. The both of you.” He turned on his heels and headed for the stairwell, up to one of the negotiation rooms on the second floor of the Accords hall.

Alec nodded curtly at his father and followed him, Magnus on his heels. 

\--

Magnus noted Aldertree had given up on having shadowhunting guards outside his interrogation room now that Alexander was with him. The Accords hall was another place where weapons were not technically allowed, but Alec’s sword handle gleamed at his waist.

As soon as the door closed and Aldertree sat down in one of the wooden chairs in the cramped room, Alec began to speak. 

“I witnessed what happened with Pangborn, and it was clear that Magnus intended only to help him. To punish him for the unfortunate situation that occurred in that village with the demon Agramon is unfair, injust, and unlawful.”

The Inquisitor merely sighed. “Alexander, my boy, if people find out about Magnus being the only survivor of this morning’s events, there will be a witch hunt.”

“Then don’t let them find out.” Alec said sternly. “It is yours and our business to ensure Agramon does not succeed, lest he attack Alicante again.” 

The Inquisitor seemed to boil where he sat. His eyes darted between the two of them, his cheeks turning red. 

Alec continued, “We have nothing to lose by allowing Magnus to help us defeat him, and everything to lose if we imprison the wrong man. After tonight, it makes no sense for Magnus to be imprisoned.”

“We have the largest scale demon attack on Alicante in recorded history, and it makes no sense for our only suspect to be imprisoned?” Aldertree nearly screamed, slamming his fists on his knees. 

Magnus opened his mouth, but before he could retort, Alec was already speaking. “With all due respect, Inquisitor, I was with him minutes before the attack started. I can swear on the Mortal Sword that Magnus could not have possibly summoned a greater demon in his cell during that time.” He took a step closer, utilizing his height over Aldertree, who looked very small sitting down compared to Alec’s large frame. “It will not look good for your re-election that you would have let an untried man suffocate in a cell because _you_ believed he was lying.”

Aldertree closed his eyes and sighed. Magnus stared with rapt admiration at Alexander, momentarily forgetting his hatred for being spoken over. He realized it was smarter to let Alexander handle this - he was born into these politics, as futile and needlessly bureaucratic as Magnus believed them to be, Alexander was much better suited to handle them than Magnus was.

The Inquisitor clenched his fists at his sides and stood up, staring Alec in the eye. “He’ll stay with you, from now until this is over. I trust there’s more than enough space for him in your family’s home, yes?”

“Agramon is nowhere near finished.” Alexander seemed to jump in surprise at Magnus’ voice. “He needs to rest after doing something so monumental as taking the wards down, but he has a plan greater than the destruction of Alicante. This is dangerous for him as well. I believe he is being summoned by someone from within, someone who wants to disrupt the Accords -”

Aldertree sneered. “Stick to teaching my knights how to resist his spells. We will determine the best course of action outside of that.”

Alec nodded curtly, avoiding Magnus’ eyes. “I will assist him in developing a training routine for the highest ranking Nephilim knights, starting tomorrow. We’ll use the training centers in the knight’s courtyard.”

“Will that be enough time?” Aldertree asked Alec, not Magnus. 

Alexander turned to Magnus for the answer. 

He cleared his throat and nodded. “If they’ll listen, and work hard, they can learn fast.”

Aldertree waved them away, no longer feigning happiness or politeness. “You’ll meet them in the training center at dawn, then. I expect you are not wrong about him, Lightwood.”

Alec nodded and threw the door open, stalking out. 

Magnus turned to follow him when Aldertree gripped his wrist. Magnus looked at his hand, then in his eyes, not holding back the disgust and contempt on his face.

“I haven’t given up my suspicion of you,” Aldertree said, clearly meaning to sound threatening.

Magnus looked him up and down like he was an unsightly stain. “Likewise.” he hissed. With no guard in sight, he yanked his arm out of Aldertree’s grasp and didn’t give him a second glance. 

\--

The walk back to the Lightwood Manor with his siblings and Magnus made him itch with anticipation. He felt, rather than heard Magnus’ presence behind him. Isabelle was always more animated when she was stressed, but Jace’s shoulders were slumped, and Alec himself didn’t have much energy for a sustained conversation. Alec hadn’t heard the details of the attack - he was sure he would by the training session - _his_ training session, and Magnus’ - tomorrow. 

The man’s name in his head felt heavy. The weight of it pulled at his train of thought, derailing it over a cliff.

Even his internal metaphors were brutal and clumsy with Magnus on his mind. He felt like they’d known each other for days now, despite only meeting that afternoon. They now shared more secrets than Alec ever had with a friend. 

Jace would probably have a joke for this - but Alec wasn’t Jace. And for once, he didn’t find himself staring at his back, watching him carefully through his now too-long blond hair. Jace was the last on his long list of concerns. Jace’s earlier remarks weren’t lost on him. Alec knew the time would come where Jace would pull him aside and demand a painful conversation, and Alec was determined to delay that for as long as possible. 

Alec shuddered. His attraction to Jace was something that had bubbled in the back of his mind for years. He’d latched onto Jace as soon as his parents had adopted him. Jace was everything he’d ever wanted to be - confident, unyielding and fluid at the same time. A fantastic shadowhunter. Jace was one of the only sure factors of Alec’s adolescence.

Somehow, that dynamic had shifted. Somewhere in the past day, Alec couldn’t get a grip on where he was supposed to be.

And there was Magnus.

The mysterious mundane-turned-warlock who’d entered his life, now his home, who seemed to have made it his life’s goal to burrow deep under Alec’s skin.

He’d never held a secret from the Clave as large as the one he was carrying in his chest. The one thing he’d always prided himself in, the only thing he believed he could do better than Jace, was to follow the law. He was failing. He was unraveling.

He knew it wasn’t fool proof, trusting Magnus. The warlock was cryptic, and hid things - that much was clear in his refusal to reveal his Mark to Alec and Jace, even when he would have died in his cell. Alec should have reported him to the Clave immediately, but that wasn’t anywhere near his first instinct. There was something magnetic about the warlock, something Alec wanted to trust despite the danger in trusting. Alec wanted to see this story through.

Magnus’s shadowy presence behind him, tall broad shouldered, with cat’s eye pupils that looked at him like they _peeled_ his mask away, fingers that touched so hot he melted under the brush of a pinky. Magnus didn’t walk with the burly weight most knights did. His head was held high, his back straight. He seemed to glide through space, his legs slimy and weightless on the cobbled street below them.

In a few short moments, Magnus had noticed Alec’s one weakness, and prodded at it. He dug into it like a fishhook and reeled him in, torturously slow.

And through all of the tragedy that had befallen Alec’s home in one day, he was thinking about Magnus’ legs walking beside him. 

He wanted to be angry, but he didn’t have the strength or energy. Every ounce of patience had seeped out of him through the course of the day.

In all his internal musings, they had arrived at the Lightwood manor. Isabelle drew a quick opening rune on the front door and it swung open into the foyer. The witch lights glowed dimly in the evening. 

The four of them stepped inside. Alec and his siblings toed off their boots against the wall and undid their outerwear. Magnus kept his clothes on his person including Alce’s cloak. He’d been silent all the while they walked to the Manor, but now, a new expression was forming on his face.

Alec didn’t have time to determine what it was before Isabelle yawned loudly.

“Are you coming to the library?” she asked him. 

Alec tore his eyes away from Magnus’ quizzical expression and looked at his sister. Magnus seemed to lean against the wall expectantly. 

Alec shook his head and jabbed his thumb in Magnus’ direction. “We, uh - need to talk about our plans. For tomorrow.”

Isabelle raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. “Alright. Just make sure you get some sleep. You need your rest more than any of us.” She wrapped Alec in a tight, quick hug, then followed Jace upstairs. 

When his siblings had disappeared onto the upstairs landing, Alec turned to Magnus in the foyer. He pointed an accusatory finger at his chest and whispered, “I have so much at stake here. I need to focus. No more messing with me.”

The words carried a biting poison, but Magnus rolled his eyes, entirely unfazed.

Even with his glamour shielding Alec from seeing his Mark, he looked catlike in how he leaned against the wall, his legs stretched out underneath him. “I’m not sure if you’ve been paying attention, Alexander. We _both_ have a lot at stake here, more than either of us are willing to admit. I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”

Alec balled his hands into fists at his sides. “I know you’re hiding things. I haven’t pressed as much as I could. I’m protecting you, letting you be here, keeping your secret. The least you can repay me is respecting my boundaries, and telling me what’s really going on.”

Magnus chuckled. “You Nephilim always seem to think the world revolves around you. Just because I have goals I’m unwilling to share with you, and I just happen to be a warlock out of the accident of my birth, does not mean I am your sworn enemy.”

Alec closed his eyes. This conversation was infuriating. Magnus picked apart his carefully crafted political speech and emotionless mask like it was made of twigs. “I can’t train an army to attack a greater demon without knowing that you have their best interest at heart.”

“I can promise I don’t want to see any harm come to the knights of Alicante. As for repayment for your trust,” he mused, leaning closer, his hand outstretched. He pressed a hand flat against Alec’s chest and pushed him to the side. “Consider this reparations, for years of treating _my_ people second-class, my dear Alexander.”

Alec shivered at the touch, despite the stinging heat stopping his heart under his shirt. “Are warlocks always this cryptic?”

“I’m not being cryptic,” he said, his voice low and quiet. He leaned closer to Alec and spoke into his ear as he passed, “I’m being coy.”

Magnus walked up the stairs like he owned the manor. Alec stood frozen in the foyer, somehow more confused and conflicted than before the beginning of the conversation. 

He followed Magnus up the stairs. At the second floor landing, Alec pointed towards the stairs that continued to the third floor. “You can pick a guest room - they’re on the left side of the hall.”

He turned towards the library, unable to give Magnus another glance.

Sebastian lounged in one of the plush chairs, reading a book in Latin by the light of the fireplace. When Alec walked in, he looked up and raised an eyebrow. “I saw the Jace and Isabelle, but where’s your other brother?”

Alec leaned against the back of the couch. “Max is with our parents. They’re still on -”

“Official Clave business,” Sebastian smiled tightly. “Of course.”

Alec had little memory of the pudgy cousin of his early childhood since his family moved to the Shanghai institute, but something about Sebastian all grown up irked him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He was all politeness and manners, but he seemed to be careless of what was going on, of the attacks and the stress everyone else was feeling. 

Alec sighed. They all had their own ways of dealing with stress, maybe apathy was Sebastian’s.

“You saw Isabelle?” he asked. “I want to talk to her.”

“She went to bed a minute ago.”

“Thanks.”

Alec knocked on his sister’s door and heard a startled squeak from behind the thick oak. There was a loud shuffling, what sounded like a whisper, and the door cracked open, only Isabelle’s dark eyes showing in the thin crack. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” she murmured, and opened the door enough for him to slip through.

He looked around at the room - messy and almost painfully pink - and sat backwards on the chair next to her vanity. He put his forehead on the wooden edge of the chair back and sighed. Isabelle sat cross legged on her bed and sighed in agreement.

Isabelle’s room was one of the only places he felt safe enough to let go of his carefully constructed exterior. 

“What’s going on, brother?” Izzy asked. 

Alec grit his teeth. Although she held it in in public, he’d known she’d have questions. He ran her through the situation, starting from that morning. He included the part about Magnus being a warlock, despite the feeling of guilt that panged through him. If he hadn’t Jace would, and Alec knew _that_ wouldn’t go over well. He didn’t mention Magnus’ continued toying with him. That part made his stomach turn too much to speak out loud, even to his sister.

Izzy didn’t interrupt him until he was finished. When he was silent for more than a few moments, she finally asked, “Why didn’t you invite Jace in here too?”

Alec crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“If you had, he would be here.” Izzy threw a pillow at him, nearly crashing into the jars and bottles on her vanity that reminded him of Magnus’ apothecary box.

“Look, Jace already knows everything I just told you.” That part was true, at least.

Izzy grabbed for another pillow, and Alec raised his hands in surrender. Izzy huffed. “I know you, Alec. You’re bottling things up until you explode. You try your best to hide it, but I can tell better than anyone. And Jace is your parabatai - have you thought about how he might be feeling right now?”

He paused. In all of this, Alec had ignored what was usually the most important thing on his mind - Jace. Their shared rune bonded them, but they weren’t the same person. They still needed to communicate verbally, even though many of their conversations were silent. 

Alec dug his first finger and thumb into his brow where his forehead ached. “I don’t know if Jace can help me in the way I need,” he said. 

Izzy hummed, and leaned back on her hands, staring up at the ceiling. “He only knows how to help in the form of killing things. Or, sometimes, he makes a mean omelet.” She glanced over at Alec, who wasn’t smiling. “I take it that’s not what you need right now.”

“I don’t know what I need.” He stared down at his hands - familiar, lined with scars, deep grooves in the thumb of his left hand from pulling back his bow string. “Besides sleep.”

“Then go get some, big brother. Once this business with Agramon is figured out, you’ll have all the time in the world to figure it out with Jace.”

Alec nodded. When he walked out into the third floor hallway that connected all of the bedrooms besides his parents master on the first floor, he paused by Jace’s door. He stood there for a few seconds, listening for the sound of his parabatai’s breathing or snoring. In his concentration, he missed the feather-light footfalls behind him. 

Jace placed a hand on his shoulder, startling him into jumping. 

“Not planning to kill me in my sleep, are you?” he said. “Although if you are going to try, 2:30 isn’t the best time. I’d say somewhere between 4:30 and 6. Any later and the crickets start chirping, and I find that ruins the mood.”

“Jace,” Alec breathed in.

“Don’t tell me, ‘I need to talk to you.’” He frowned. “I know.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Alec tried, but Jace rolled his eyes and leaned his back against the door of his own room. 

“But it’s true. You do. So cough it up.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I don’t see why not. You just open your mouth, and thoughts come out.”

“Jace,” Alec closed his eyes. Whenever Jace got in this mood it made it hard for him to concentrate. “I’m being serious.”

“ _Spill it._ ”

Alec gripped his fist in his other palm behind his back. “Magnus is going to help me train shadowhunters to fight of Agramon. I’m nervous because -”

“That’s not it.”

“I’m _telling_ you, can’t you _listen_ -”

“I know something else is going on, Alec.” Jace gestured at his hip, where his half of their parabatai rune was. “I can feel it here.”

Alec shook his head. “You’re my parabatai, but that bond doesn’t go that deep. You don’t know how I feel.”

“I know how you _think_ you feel. And you’re wrong.” Jace’s look was intense - more intense than Alec could remember seeing. 

_You’re wrong._ “I - I don’t know what you’re -”

“Kiss me.” Jace demanded. 

Alec balked. 

He’d imagined this before. Come to think of it, he’d only imagined it once, years ago. Kissing Jace, touching his face, his lips - that memory was far away.

When Alec agreed to become Jace’s parabatai, he had hoped the walls of the situation would anchor him in place. Of course he loved Jace as a brother, and they were better fighters together, but Alec had other motives. Relationships between parabatai were forbidden, even more forbidden were relationships between adoptive siblings. There was also the handy aspect that Jace had never shown an ounce of interest in men.

Alec intentionally locked himself into a position where he would never need anyone else but Jace, and still be unable to have him in the way Alec was so ashamed of. It was an intentional push and pull. Alec felt _safe_ in the impossible situation - if he was in love with Jace, and he could be his parabatai, but never have him, then he would never have to deal with the absolute _shit show_ that would ensue from his parents and the Clave if he was attracted to anybody else.

But now… Jace was staring him down, their chests a foot apart, after having asked Alec to kiss him, and Alec didn’t want to. He looked into Jace’s face, and saw everything familiar. The furrow of his brow, the stubble on his cheeks, his heterochromic eyes. The face he’d thought was so lovely, years ago.

He saw his parabatai. His brother. He felt, he realized, as he always had. He didn’t want to kiss him. 

Jace must have seen the pain in his eyes, because he placed his hands on Alec’s shoulders and squeezed. “I’ll always be here, fighting at your side. But you have to let me in.”

He swallowed, hard. “What do I do now?”

Jace smiled. “Figure it out. Like you always do. Stop holding back, and stop getting in your own way.”

\--

The spare room was plain, but worlds nicer than his shared room in the knight’s quarters. The bed was four-poster with red velvet hangings, and the headboard had more pillows than Magnus could imagine using. He stepped over to the small writing desk in front of the window and ran a hand over the smooth wood. There was a witchlight lamp that dimly illuminated the room, along with the moonlight streaming in from the window.

It was nice, this new arrangement. He wondered if Alexander had a room as simply decorated, or if he adorned the walls with drawings, saved scraps of parchment, if the floor was strewn with clothes and spare weapons or if he kept everything perfectly tidy, as the knights were expected to in the quarters.

Words from his conversation with Alexander still rang in his ears. _I need to focus. No more messing with me._

Magnus thought the sentiment went both ways. Alexander could stop distracting him from his goals with how he populated his thoughts. There were moments when Magnus couldn’t stand the foolish young shadowhunter, in how he held the Clave on a pedestal and talked for Magnus whenever they were around other Nephilim. All of his annoying political back-talk was just a mask he used to protect his vulnerability. 

And then, there was the vulnerability itself - the sweet smile Alexander gave him when he found him alive in the cell. The gentleness with which his fingertips had grazed Magnus’ wrists. The brilliant color at the tops of his ears and on the curve of his cheeks when Magnus got too close.

His stupid Nephilum self-righteousness and his stupid curly hair and handsome face.

The knock on his door startled him from his thoughts. 

“Come in?” Magnus called out, turning around and bracing himself against the desk. He was even more surprised when Alexander himself stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

Alexander looked perplexed. For a moment, Magnus was worried he’d discovered something unsightly, or was here to arrest him on behalf of the Clave. Alexander stood very still, and very quiet, until his brow furrowed and jaw set.

For once, he did not wait for Magnus to cross the distance between the doorway and him in two long strides. They were a foot apart.

Alexander leaned forward, and his fingers brushed the base of Magnus’ throat. They were warm, and Magnus knew his skin would be scarlet where they had touched.

With the advantage of his height, Alexander tipped his head forward and Magnus was forced to look up at him. This was the first time he noticed how gracefully Alexander’s eyelashes curled. 

“I came to get this back.” He murmured. His voice was low and deep, only audible in the small bubble of space they shared between them.

His warm breath hit the tops of Magnus’ cheeks. Magnus shivered.

Alexander’s fingers slowly pulled the clasp of his cloak undone, the backs of his knuckles brushing against the hollow of Magnus’ throat. For what little pressure his fingers left on Magnus’ skin, he could have been choking him for how breathless he felt. 

When the clasp slipped loose and the worn cloak fell to the floor, Alec’s fingertips dipped down to Magnus’ sternum. It was so quick, the touch so light, Magnus wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not. And yet, when Alexander pulled away, Magnus arched forward like a marionette, as if that simple touch had attached a string connecting his fingertip to his chest.

Alec’s eyes were black. He thought this close, they might have been more hazel, but they were darker, still. Magnus felt dizzy.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

His voice was painfully loud in the otherwise silent room, as he leaned down to pick up his discarded cloak. 

Magnus didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Their eyes met - they’d never left - and Alexander’s head tilted slightly to the side, his eyes raked over Magnus’ body. Just once, _down, up,_ like a predator analyzing their prey. 

He could feel that gaze on his body like hands.

Alexander’s shoulders seemed to sag - _no, melt_ \- and he left the room like a ghost.

The door creaked shut. Magnus felt as though he’d been run through with his own blade. He stared at the empty Alexander-shaped space in his periphery. He waited until he couldn’t hear Alexander’s footsteps beyond the wood of his door. He finally felt himself breathe.

He only later saw the indentations his fingernails had carved into the top of the desk.

_Who’s messing with who?_

\--

It was only that morning Alec realized the sheer effect the attacks had on the number of willing knights. The main room in the training center had a smooth stone floor, large enough for ten pairs of knights to spar with adequate room to practice flips and tumbles. The space seemed even larger with only a handful of elite Nephilim knights and a few mundanes standing in a clump at the north side, staring with furrowed brows.

Despite Aldertree’s agreement to let _Alec_ and Magnus train the knights, Magnus had taken control. He had given Alec an aloof cold shoulder all morning at the manor, and as he and his siblings made their way to the training center. Despite his insistence that the solution to their problem was simple, he refused to share it with Alec before he told the rest of the knights. 

Magnus stood in the center of the room, his sword at his belt. Alec stood to the side of the main group, watching, not daring to speak. Magnus knew how to command a room - he wasn’t taller than many of the shadowhunters, but he stood tall with his shoulders back and spoke with a brazen confidence. Magnus had them sit cross legged on the floor with their swords in a pile by the entrance.

Alec was worried the Nephilum would be reluctant to listen to a mundane’s battle strategy, but Jace and Isabelle sat at the front, asking follow-up questions and listening attentively. Alec silently thanked them for setting an example for the rest of the group, as after a few minutes, the others dropped the stiff set of their shoulders and asked questions as well. 

Magnus’ approach to defeating the demon was different from their typical strategy. Instead of teaching them effective attacks or throwing them into sparring, he spent the majority of the morning explaining Agramon’s particular biology and strength.

He set up the perfect picture - Agramon cannot be outsmarted. There’s no point in trying to hide your fears from him. He will dig into your thoughts and find whatever it is that scares you, and show you your worst memories, driving you mad in the process. 

When Magnus paused as he explained the particular way Agramon peeled apart human consciousness, a hand shot up in the back of the room. Magnus nodded, and Alec recognized Raj’s voice. 

“With all due respect, I understand that there’s nothing we can do to prevent it from figuring out our fears, how do we defend against it?”

Magnus grinned. “I won’t be teaching you how to defend against him. This is the one case where defense means nothing. There’s nothing you can do to keep him from finding out what will make you afraid. What you need to do instead is find out what he might draw from your memory, and place it at the front of your consciousness.” Magnus tapped the center of his forehead.

A silent shiver passed over the room, but Magnus didn’t stop. “Don’t waste any time as he digs around. That’s what gives him the ability to drive hooks will deep in your mind. I want all of you to take your worst fear, or worst memory, and use it to throw him a bone. Before you ever encounter Agramon, you need to be prepared for seeing this fear played out.”

Nephilim, in particular, were a very secretive group. The idea of getting in touch with their worst fears, or even _having_ worst fears, clearly made quite a few of them uncomfortable. 

Jace piped up, “How will we prepare ourselves to face the fear?”

“You’ll need to get used to acting on instincts alone. Overthink anything, and Agramon will be able to go deeper. Abandon everything you’ve been taught about making calculated plans, risks, and strategies.”

By the end of the morning session, no one had unsheathed a weapon, but they still stared at Magnus with rapt attention. Alec leaned against the far wall, fiddling with a loose thread on the back of his shirt. Magnus’ idea was brilliant, but he couldn’t help but feel terrified at the prospect of airing out his worst fears. Alec had thought there was some spell, some ritual or clue that would protect them from the demon’s advances. He hadn’t imagined the key would be to give the fear demon your worst fear.

“Think of what a fear demon would use against you. Reason it out. Think of ways to ground yourself and push against it.” Magnus clapped his hands and brushed invisible dirt off of his pants. “I think that’s a wonderful time to stop for lunch.” 

As the other knights filtered out of the room towards the mess hall, Alec stayed back. He waved Jace and Isabelle away and made up a lame excuse for talking to Magnus, who stood in the center of the room, seemingly very interested in his nails.

And then, everyone was gone. Alec picked his sword up from the ground and strapped it back to his belt.

“Questions, Alexander?” Magnus asked, looking up from his nails.

Alec sighed. He looked at his feet. He had many questions, but he couldn’t make sense of them easily. 

He looked up into Magnus’ piercing eyes, wishing, somehow, they could glow green now that they were alone. “I need to get out of my own head.”

“What do you usually do to get out of your head?” Magnus asked.

“I train.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow and unsheathed the sword at his belt. How he managed to have a runed blade, Alec didn’t question. He pulled his own out and drove forward.

They encircled the mat in the middle of the room, moving slowly at first. Alec kept his distance, pressing forward with his long arms, aiming high, forcing Magnus to duck or step backwards. Magnus was light on his feet. His fighting style was unusual. He seemed relaxed, lazily parrying Alec’s slashing and staring at his attacks, taking them in before he moved at the last second to dismantle them.

He barely attacked, and when he did, it was with stabbing instead of slashing. Alec had to twist his body unnaturally to avoid the blows while attacking. He realized it was because he was trying to move inside of Alec’s range, using Alec’s height against him. 

It was calculated and clever, but it seemed to come naturally to him.

“I don’t even know what I would focus on.” Alec grunted out. Before he realized it, he’d worked himself up to a sweat. 

Magnus raised an eyebrow and dropped to his knees to avoid a heavy swipe of Alec’s blade. He kicked out, striking Alec’s ankle and he winced. “You’re so good at looking for weaknesses in enemies, why can’t you do the same in yourself?” 

“My mind doesn’t work that way.” he lied. “Give me something concrete. Stop being so cryptic. I need you to teach me -” he leaped forward and almost impaled himself on Magnus’ blade.

“I’ve already been teaching you. I’ve been teaching you this whole time.” Magnus sighed, dealing a brutally strong three-part attack. That brought them closer than before.

Alec bared his teeth as he slid his sword towards the hilt of Magnus’, using the leverage to force him backwards. Their swords clanged together a few times near the ground and Magnus leaped over a low blow, side stepping even closer to Alec’s guard.

Alec grunted, parrying Magnus’ next blow. He shoved forward, exerting himself until Magnus’ back hit the wall and he couldn’t run out of the way. “Not just demonology and mental tricks. I don’t understand that. How am I supposed to use my worst fears to not be afraid?”

Magnus ducked under his block and encircled an arm around the small of Alec’s back. He pressed their chests together, forcing Alec to step back. Alec’s advantage in his height and the reach of his sword meant nothing when Magnus was this close inside his reach. The trick was dirty, and held nothing of the graceful swords play from before. In a battle, it would force them into hand to hand combat. Magnus leaned in, his lips only a few hairs away from Alec’s. When he murmured, Alec could feel their breath mixing.

_“Don’t hold back.”_

One of his hands reached down, gripped Magnus’s sword arm and slammed it against the wooden wall behind him. Hot fingers dug into his skin, and Magnus dropped his blade. A low thunk resonated in his ears as Alec pressed his sword into the wall beside Magnus, mere hair breadths away from his cheek.

Through his heavy breathing, Magnus smiled.

Alec frowned. He pulled his blade from the wood and tilted Magnus’s chin up with the tip of his sword. Magnus complied, looking down the blade into Alec’s sharp expression. 

His grip on Magnus’ wrist was bruising. Alec heard the scratch of his fingernails against the worn wood of the wall flush with Magnus’ back.

Alec’s right hand was by his own cheek, the grip on his sword handle quivering with the same tension of pulling back a bowstring. His eyes traced a bead of sweat as it ran from Magnus’ forehead, over the curve of his temple and the slope of his cheek. His thumb brushed against a strand of Magnus’ hair.

“You’re still holding back.” Magnus said. The words held the husky burn of a dry throat. “Just like last night.”

Alec jerked his chin back. He looked down his own nose. Magnus watched as his position waived. His shoulder was steady, but he could see the shake of his hand in the sharp cold of the blade under Magnus’ chin.

Magnus swallowed, and Alec’s eyes darted to the bob of his Adam's apple. 

That moment of pause was all he needed. 

Magnus shoved forward, checking him with his chest, and Alec dropped his sword with surprise. As the blade clanged to the ground, Magnus wrapped his arm around Alec’s shoulder and pulled his back to his chest. Alec gasped for breath, his hands clutching at the crook of Magnus’ elbow pressed against his throat.

“I don’t hold back,” he sputtered. He tried to writhe out of Magnus’ grip, but Magnus just turned them over, forcing Alec’s head into the ground and yanking his arm up and back.

Alec cried out at the strain. It didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t muscle his way out of Magnus’ grip. 

“You’re hesitating, Alec.” Magnus hissed. Alec looked up - his chest was heaving with exertion too. 

Instead of trying to outsmart the grip. Alec lunged backwards against Magnus, letting his limbs follow the trajectory that felt the most natural. He got out of the hold and leaped to his feet as Magnus stood. Before he caught his breath he leaped forward again, grabbing Magnus by the shoulders and pressing him against a nearby column with his full body weight.

He grinned at the shocked expression on Magnus’ face. Then he realized their position. 

Their chests were flush, and Magnus was thoroughly sandwiched between Alec and the column. Their legs overlapped. They were touching from their chest to their thighs.

Alec could feel the cool metal of Magnus’ belt buckle against the skin of his abdomen where his shirt had rucked up. He could see the shocked expression of Magnus’ face this close, his eyes dark and lids low, his mouth gentle parted in a gasp. And Alec couldn’t move. 

He wasn’t sure where his sword was, or where his mind was going, but his hands slid down Magnus’ shoulders until they were flat against his chest. Magnus blinked and his eyes shone gold and green. 

“That’s how you do it,” Magnus murmured. 

His own hands drifted from limp at his sides to Alec’s abdomen, pushing under his tunic until they were flat, the tips of his fingers brushing the light scars on Alec’s ribs. Alec sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Their lips were a hair’s breadth away when the door to the training center crashed open and Jace stepped inside.

Alec saw a bright flash of blue sparks and jolted, and looked down at his feet to notice he was halfway across the room. He glanced up and saw Magnus taking a sip from his hip flask with his eyes screwed shut. He smelled singed fabric for a moment, and it disappeared. 

Jace’s eyes flicked between them, but he was gracious enough to say nothing about what he’d walked in on. “Everyone’s done with lunch. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Alec nodded wordlessly.

For the afternoon session, Alec stared at Magnus’ mouth, but couldn’t process a word he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are Magnus' ulterior motives?
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr @kelivision and twitter @eyebrowmab


	3. Chapter Three: All You Have is Your Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus follow a new lead on the case - Ragnor Fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Another installment. I kept a few tidbits about Ragnor and Sebastian from City of Glass because I love pea green Ragnor.  
> This one is also slightly shorter than the two previous, but next week is going to be a Doozy. Enjoy :)

The knights filtered out of the training room at the end of the day. Alec remained against the wall, his hands clasped behind his back. Jace and Isabelle stayed to talk to Magnus. Alec knew he should join them, but something kept his feet fixed on the wooden floor. Jace kept shooting him questioning glances, but he had done well enough to avoid them.

Sebastian followed up the last of the knights, but stopped before the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Magnus and Alec’s siblings, deep in conversation. He reached out and grabbed Alec’s arm, startling him. His grip was tight on Alec’s bicep. His expression held an urgency Alec hadn’t seen on Sebastian before. 

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked, his voice low. 

Alec looked between the hand tightly gripping his arm and Sebastian’s pale face. “Of course,” he responded, turning to listen to Sebastian but not moving to leave his spot by the weapons’ rack. 

Sebastian gave a pointed glance to Magnus, Izzy and Jace. _“…Alone.”_

Alec grit his teeth and followed the other man out of the main room. Sebastian brought them opposite the locker room where most of the knights were changing out of gear and armor, to a corner of the hallway where no one was lingering. 

“I’ve heard about something that could help us defeat Agramon.” he whispered, his voice curt and low. “There are rumors that a Warlock on the outskirts of Idris has the Book of the White. It’s -”

“A spellbook,” Alec finished. “I’ve heard of it.”

“Right.” Sebastian glanced at the floor. “It’s one of the most powerful spellbooks in existence, the most ancient. And the Clave hasn’t known its location in decades.”

“But you know where it is?”

“From what I heard, Ragnor Fell knows where it is. His family helped mine a few years ago, so I know where he’s living.”

_Ragnor Fell._ Alec didn’t recognize the name, but if he was a warlock local to the area, there was a good chance Magnus might know who he is.

“And you’re _sure_ this spellbook would help us?” 

“It’s one of the most prized spellbooks in existence. If we could find it, and contract a warlock, they might be able to bind Agramon. Plus, it can’t hurt to try, at this point.”

Alec nodded. “I’ll go and tell Magnus. We can leave -”

His hand shot out and grabbed his wrist before he could walk back towards the training room. “We need to go alone, _now._ ” Sebastian held his chin high and Alec got the sense he was trying to look down at him.

Alec folded his arms in front of his chest, shaking off Sebastian’s grip. Sebastian was tall, but he was taller. “I’m not going to go without him.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, his eyebrows drawn together in frustration. Something flashed in his eyes and his jaw flexed. “Yes, bring Magnus, actually. That’s a good idea. Tell him to meet us outside. I’ll get horses ready.”

Alec nodded and walked back towards the entrance to the training center, almost colliding head-first with Izzy. 

“Hey big brother,” Izzy said, breathless. “That was an amazing session. Magnus is so -”

“Thanks Izzy,” he interrupted. “Where is Magnus, exactly?”

Izzy frowned and shot him one of her knowing looks. “He’s still talking to Jace. Should we all get dinner to celebrate your success?”

“I would, but I don’t really feel like we’ve succeeded just yet. I need to do something with Magnus.”

“Something?” Izzy raised an eyebrow.

“Something… Agramon related.” Alec choked out. He hated lying to Izzy, but knew if he told her what they would be doing that evening, she would want to tag along. 

“Okay Alec, no need to tell me twice.” She winked at him and headed to the changing room. “Make sure you talk to me as soon as you get back.”

She disappeared into the other room, leaving Alec confused. He shook his head and walked into the training room to find Jace standing a foot away from Magnus with his arms crossed, and Magnus staring back at him looking very pale in the face.

Before Alec could say anything, Magnus broke away from his conversation with Jace and walked swiftly in Alec’s direction. Jace fixed Alec with a sly expression and a small grin.

“What -”

“Come, Alexander, we have business to attend to.” Magnus said curtly, passing Alec with a twirl of his cloak.

Once they were out of the training center, Alec stopped Magnus by grabbing onto his wrist. “Magnus, Sebastian told me about the Book of the White.”

Magnus immediately stood very still. “How does he know about that?” he asked, his voice quiet so none of the knights filtering out of the center towards the quarters could hear them. 

“You might want to ask him yourself. He said a warlock named Ragnor Fell knows of its location. We’re leaving now for his -”

Magnus held up a finger to silence him. “Ragnor Fell? He said Ragnor?” 

“That’s what he said.”

“That’s impossible. Unless -” Magnus’ eyes lit up. “That sly pea.”

Alec was getting tired of being confused.

Before he could ask Magnus what he meant, he saw Sebastian pulling two black horses towards them by their leads. Sebastian grinned at them. “Ready to ride?”

\--

Magnus had decided it was his duty to ride double with Alec, as Sebastian was leading the way. At every bump in the dirt that shoved them together, Alec cursed the warlock for electing to sit behind him.

They were completely flush, Magnus’ chest and stomach against Alec’s back, the front of his thighs touching the backs of Alec’s, and every root or pit in the grassy path below them rocked them impossibly closer on the seat of the horse’s saddle. The leather reigns between his fingers rubbed his skin raw as he gripped them to steady himself. Riding was usually enough of a distraction to stop his mind from getting in his way, but the heat of Magnus’ entire torso and his arms wrapped firmly around his midsection was much more distracting. 

They didn’t talk much on the way to Ragnor Fell’s house. Sebastian was determined to get them to their destination as quickly as possible, and the wind rushing past their ears was too loud to hear each other over. 

The ride took the better half of an hour before a handsome stone house appeared at the base of a valley in their path. 

Sebastian pulled his horse into a walk and Alec did the same behind him, wincing as the sudden stop made Magnus’ hands jerk around his belly. 

“That’s it,” Sebastian sad, dismounting. 

They tied the horses to a low tree branch and walked towards the front of the house. As they got closer, green smoke in the shape of a question mark floated upwards from the chimney. 

“What’s -” 

Magnus stepped in front of Alec and Sebastian before Sebastion could finish saying his question. He held his hands out and spoke with a booming voice. “Magnus Bane, Alexander Lightwood and Sebastian -” He frowned and turned back towards them. “Sorry, Sebastian, what’s your last name?”

“Verlac.” 

“And Sebastian Verlac!” Magnus finished with a flourish of his hands. 

The question mark evaporated and was replaced with a smokey red heart.

“That looks like our cue,” Magnus said, strutting forward on the lawn towards the large wooden front door. 

Sebastian and Alec exchanged a glance and followed him.

The door flew open, and Alec had time to notice the man was _green_ and had something stuck to his forehead on either side before he felt a cool tingly sensation take over his entire body. His vision went dark for a moment, then reappeared. In the moment it seemed his vision had lapsed, Magnus and Ragnor had moved a foot into the doorway and were deep in conversation.

“- really, cabbage.” Magnus finished, waving at Alec.

Alec glanced to the side at Sebastian, who was completely frozen, a perplexed expression stuck on his face. 

“What happened?” he asked. Ragnor rolled his eyes. 

Alec knew most warlocks stopped aging somewhere in their mid-twenties. Magnus was one of a handful of warlocks Alec had seen in person, and he had the same unusually timeless faces that could belong to anyone between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five. Ragnor was different. His face was much older, and it was currently looking at him with an expression of annoyance and frustration. His warlock mark was more apparent than Magnus’ cat eyes - he had two large horns protruding from his temples. 

His skin was also a lovely shade of pea-green.

Ragnor placed a hand on Magnus’ shoulder and ignored Alec’s question. “Magnus, we made a promise decades ago. Eighteen was the cut-off. You signed it, all three of us did.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “You have me all wrong Ragnor, Alexander is -” he paused, narrowing his eyes at Alec. “How old are you Alexander? I’d assumed… because you’re a shadowhunter -”

Alec felt his face heat up. “I’m eighteen. You -” he gestured at Sebastian, who was still frozen. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s just a charm. He’s not in any pain. I’ll unfreeze him when I’m done talking to the two of you.” Ragnor returned his cool gaze to Alec and looked him up and down. “You’re lucky Magnus was here with you. I don’t like shadowhunters.” 

“I told you, anything you tell me you can tell him. I trust Alexander.”

“Eighteen year-olds, trusting Nephilim,” Ragnor murmured under his breath. “Very well. You two can come in. Leave him out on the porch.”

Alec followed the two warlocks into the foyer of Ragnor’s house. They sat in front of the fireplace.

“Tea?” Ragnor offered, but Alec shook his head.

“The Book of the White. Is it true you have it? Can you use it to kill Agramon?” Alec asked.

Ragnor and Magnus shared a knowing look. 

“Alexander, I am much older than Magnus -”

“But not wiser,” Magnus muttered.

“-but even I don’t know how to kill Agramon. And I don’t know the entire contents of the Book of the White. I only had it for some time. But I do know if there _is_ a spell, the Book of the White would have it.”

“So where is it?”

“Patience, Alexander,” Ragnor said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Nephilim, always trying to rush things. Really, I don’t know how you can still stand it.”

“I have developed a soft spot.” Magnus smiled. “Now, my beautiful pea pod, what in the _world_ is going on, and why are you not back in Alicante?”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “Alicante?”

Ragnor looked at Magnus and sighed, though his eyes held affection instead of frustration. “I’ve been disguised as a knight for years so I could keep an eye on Magnus and on the Clave’s affairs, but I need a break. Keeping up a glamour is so difficult when I have such an obvious Mark.” Ragnor gestured at the large horns protruding from his forehead. “However, in the past few days before I returned here, I heard some interesting rumors.”

“Two Nephilim have been discovered to be Valentine’s daughter and a boy Valentine raised. They have… interesting abilities, to say the least.”

“Valentine.” Alec met Magnus’ eyes. “Pangborn said Valentine’s last name right before he died. We thought it was because of his fear, but -”

“It seems either some of Valentine’s allies have come out of the woodwork, or Valentine himself -”

“He should be dead.” Alec insisted.

Valentine had died in a fire, along with his toddler son 18 years previously. Alec knew the Clave had found their bones and buried them in the Nephilim graveyard in Idris. The Circle and the Uprising were specifically anti-downworlder for their demonic heritage. They wanted mass genocide instead of the typical “hands-off” Clave approach. Using a demon to invade Alicante didn’t really seem like Valentine’s style, but if anyone were to use violence to take down Alicante… 

Ragnor paused, deep in thought. “Maybe.” he said finally.

Magnus placed a hand over Ragnor’s where it was resting on his knee. “My dear friend, as much as I love spending time with you, we really do need to try to find the Book of the White. I’m working with the knights to train them to survive another attack, but I don’t think anyone is prepared to kill Agramon.”

“It’s at the Morgenstern Manor, disguised as a cookbook for housewives. Something Valentine would never touch.” Ragnor grinned. “Jocelyn was very clever.”

“So that’s it, we just need to find the cookbook, and we’ll be able to kill him?”

Ragnor shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

Alec leaned back in the plush chair and bit the inside of his cheek. He met Magnus’ eyes and quirked an eyebrow. Magnus looked away and stared firmly at the ground. Something was up with him again. Alec had the same feeling as when they had talked in the Foyer of the Lightwood manor the night before - Magnus was hiding one of his motives. 

Magnus stood and clapped his hands together, reaching for Ragnor to pull him into a tight hug. 

“Stay safe, good friend,” he said into Ragnor’s ear, and Ragnor’s stern expression softened momentarily.

Ragnor escorted them out to the porch, where Sebastian was still frozen still, his hand slightly outstretched for a handshake.

“I could keep him as a coat hanger,” Ragnor mused.

“ _No,_ he’s helping us.” Alec insisted. 

Ragnor rolled his eyes, but upon Magnus prodding his ribcage with his elbow, he snapped his fingers and Sebastian continued as if he’d never been frozen. His hand stretched out further and he smiled. 

“Ragnor Fell, we’re here for -”

“No.” Ragnor interrupted, slamming the door after him.

Sebastian’s face paled. “Was it something I did?” he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between Alec and Magnus. 

Alec and Magnus exchanged a glance and Alec hooked a hand under Sebastian’s elbow, leading him back to their horses. “We’ll explain on the way. There’s been a change of plans.”

\--

The Morgenstern Manor was nestled between a woody forest and a creek. It was tall and brick, more elegant than Ragnor’s house. It looked rough around the edges from years of abandonment, and green ivy trailed up the side and into one of the broken windows on the second story.

“Isn’t this nice!” Magnus said. “I say we split up. Last one to find the spellbook is a lousy shadowhunter!”

Upon stepping inside, the witch lights that lit the building glimmered dimly. The manor creaked underfoot, and spiderwebs covered the corners between the ceiling and the walls. Magnus marched into the building with his head held high and made a bee-line for the kitchen. 

Alec palmed one of his daggers and nodded towards the library. Sebastian followed him. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to grab for his weapon, but as soon as he had stepped into the building, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He had a bad feeling about traipsing around in an abandoned building that had such a terrible history.

The library in the Morgenstern Manor gave the Lightwoods a run for their money. The bookshelves were stacked high, and the room was twice as large as the one in Alec’s home. It was impressive, but it meant more work for Alec and Sebastian if they were to find the Book of the White.

“Is the Book of the White… white?” Sebastian asked, his long fingers drifting over the spines of the books on the shelves that lined the room.

Alec shrugged. “I’m not sure. Either way, we’re looking for a cookbook.”

Sebastian was still confused by their interaction with Ragnor, but he didn’t ask them many questions, which Alec was grateful. He didn’t want to reveal Magnus’ position to Sebastian until he could be sure he wouldn’t tell anyone else. Besides, that was up to Magnus’ discretion. 

Alec stared down one of the shelves, searching the title for _Recipes for Housewives_ until he felt a tingle on the back of his neck, then his deflect rune burned - something was watching him.

He whirled around, his dagger in hand, to find Sebastian standing a few inches away from him. His face was tilted up to look at him, his dark eyes searching over Alec’s face.

The hair on his forehead was plastered to his skin with sweat from the horse ride over. Sebastian’s face was angular and sharp, but there was a softness to his skin. He was very pale, and his black eyes and hair seemed dark as pitch against his white skin. Very unlike the pudgy and freckled boy Alec had known in his childhood.

This close, Alec noticed his eyelashes were light blond.

He opened his mouth to ask Sebastian what he was doing, but Sebastian held up one finger. “There are rumors about you among the knights, you know.”

Alec quirked an eyebrow and tried to appear confused, but his heart had begun to beat three times faster. He wondered if Sebastian could hear it pounding against his ribs when he was this close. The sound was so loud in his own ears he could barely hear Sebastian’s next words. 

“I’d wondered, myself.” Sebastian’s finger, raised to silence him, traced a gentle line from Alec’s temple, over his cheek, before his hand rested on Alec’s jaw, his fingers tilting his face to the side.

His skin was very cold. 

Alec recognized this position. He’d been here with Magnus more times in the past few days than he’d ever been before. Where Magnus’ eyes always heavy and hungry, drinking him in, Sebastian's were just cold. Calculated. They studied him like they were looking right through the layers of his skin, prying him apart like forceps. 

Sebastian made the inches between their faces disappear, and to Alec’s growing horror, he realized he was pressed against the bookshelf behind him.

Sebastian’s lips were cold and dry. Alec tried to duck away, but Sebastian fisted his shirt in one hand and grabbed Alec’s wrist with the other. His grip was bruising, and Alec couldn’t pull away. Sebastian was so thin, built like a pianist, not a warrior, but even straining as hard as he could Alec couldn’t wrench his wrist away from his shackle grip. Sebastian tilted his head and deepened the kiss, prying Alec’s lips open with his own. 

Alec’s bones screamed that it was wrong - not in any shameful way, but with a pained urgency and fear. 

Sebastian pulled away after another second passed, his eyes narrow. There was a removed disgust in his eyes. “What, is that not enough for you?” he hissed.

Alec stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking, his mouth slightly parted in shock.

Sebastian snarled, but before he could open his mouth to toy with Alec again, the house shook beneath their feet. Sebastian stumbled back, finally leaving Alec with enough space to breathe, and books began to tumble off the shelves. 

Alec heard Magnus yell, and sprinted for the hallway, Sebastian hot on his heels.

“ _Magnus!_ ” Alec yelled when he couldn’t immediately see Magnus among the dust and rubble that was falling from the ceiling. The entire house was quaking. Alec wasn’t in the kitchen or the dining room on the first floor, so Alec barreled up the stairs towards the second story.

“Alec, it’s too dangerous! The house is collapsing!” Sebastian yelled after him, but Alec ignored him. 

The upstairs was filled with floating dust and smoke. Alec covered his nose and mouth with his hand and squinted, trying to catch sight of Magnus through the rubble. 

He ran into a wall and winced, coughing on soot. 

He saw a blue spark out of the corner of his eye and ran towards it. “Magnus?” he called over the sound of the shaking building.

“Alexander, I have the book. Run!” His voice was weak. 

Alec fell to his knees and pulled Magnus into his arms. He looked back to the staircase and found a flaming wooden board had fallen and blocked their way. 

Magnus clutched at Alec’s chest. “The window, Alexander.”

Through the smoke, Alec spotted sunlight through a colorful stained glass window at the end of the hallway. He calculated the fall in his mind. They were only on the second floor, he’d survived falls like that before. The chance of survival was high enough for him. He held Magnus tighter and sprinted for the window. 

He crashed through the grass. For a second, he felt completely weightless. His body started to follow through the muscle memory of a flip, ducking into a roll to absorb the impact and land on his feet. He realized as the ground rushed up to meet him, he wouldn’t be able to with Magnus in his arm. He stopped his flip and jerked, twisted mid-air, putting his body between Magnus and the ground, and grit his teeth.

He struck the hard packed dirt on his back and felt the wind completely knocked out of his chest.

\--

Magnus looked up at the sky and blinked the spots of light out of his vision. Half of his brain recognized the feeling of wet grass on his fingers. The other half barely registered that he was struggling to breathe.

He tilted his head to the side and saw Alexander, sprawled out on the grass at an odd angle. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was slack.

The blood rushed back into Magnus’ head all at once. He made a choked gasp and wrestled his numb limbs to crouch at Alexander’s side, pulling his head onto his lap. His fingers gingerly danced over the sweaty tendrils Alec’s hair. 

He blinked, hard, and held his hand over Alec’s chest. He clenched his hand into a fist with a jerk and used the last of his energy to jump-start Alexander’s heart.

The terrible sound of his rattling breath rang in Magnus’ ears. Magnus’ head and shoulders sank and he bowed his face over Alexander’s.

“Thank god,” he murmured, meeting Alec’s eyes as they blinked up at him.

Alexander cracked a weak smile. “I didn’t think it was that high,” he gasped. 

Magnus wanted to hit him for making his own heart stop, but he didn’t know if Alexander’s body could handle any more trauma. He cupped Alec’s cheek in his palm. “Don’t.” he sighed. “Don’t play, not now.”

Alec’s expression of quiet exhaustion transformed to one of shock. “The book! Do you have it?”

There was a loud cough, and Magnus looked up to see Sebastian standing there, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest. “I told you not to go to the second floor.”

Behind Sebastian was a large pile of steaming rubble where the Morgenstern Manor once was. 

Magnus thought about how his hand had jerked when he’d first pulled the book of the 

The book was burning a hole in his waist bag, but something in him screamed that Sebastian wasn’t quite right. He thought back to what Ragnor had told him.

_Promise me you’ll think of the downworld when you make these rash decisions._

Magnus sighed and looked back down at Alexander, who still didn’t look alive enough to sit up. He pulled Alec’s head and shoulders out of his lap and set him gently in the grass.

“I lost the book in the explosion. It was tied to the manor. It must have been some type of curse Jocelyn put on the house. The book is gone.”

Sebastian seemed to deflate. He dropped his hands and sighed.

Magnus gestured at Alec. “Give him one of those runes. He’ll need it if we are to get back.”

Alec seemed to shrink into himself when Sebastian pulled his shirt up and applied an _iratze_ to the center of his sternum. The rune brought color back to his face, but it didn’t solve the sick feeling growing in Magnus’ stomach.

It took a few more minutes for Alexander to be ready to travel. Magnus sat in front of their horse so Alexander could relax against him. His eyes had been wide and his jaw clenched since he’d seen Sebastian. Magnus knew something must have happened between them when Magnus was looking for the Book of the White.

Alexander leaned against his back. His palms were flat on Magnus’ sides. For once, there wasn’t a stiffness separating them. Alexander didn’t hold back like before. His cheek rested against Magnus’ shoulder. The night breeze was cool, but Magnus wasn’t shivering from the air on his skin.

The ride seemed to take longer than it should have. They’d been riding for almost an hour without catching sight of the usual pearly glow of Alicante’s demon towers. It wasn’t until they heard the screaming when they realized Alicante was closer than they’d thought. The Wards weren’t lit.

Magnus’ jaw dropped as he drove his horse into a gallop. Alec’s hands tightened around his waist. “Sebastian!” he heard Alexander call behind them. 

They reached the entrance to the gate and Magnus swung is right leg over the side of the horse. He fell to the ground and pulled Alexander after him, holding him against his side. The other horse cantered up to the gate, its eyes blown wide open. Its saddle was empty. Magnus spun on his heels.

Sebastian was sprinting off in the other direction, running inhumanely fast. Something clicked in Magnus’ mind, and he was grateful he hadn’t told Sebastian the truth about the Book of the White. He started to ready himself to run after him, but Alec put a hand on his chest.

“Leave him,” he urged. His face looked deathly pale. 

Magnus grit his teeth and turned back towards the gate. He blasted the gate open in a wave of blue sparks. His glamour fell away completely. They ran into the carnage of Alicante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello pals, to the almost 300 of you who have read so far and the 12 people who have subscribed, please...leave me comments!! I thrive off of them and I could really use some with the week/month/decade I'm having lol.
> 
> Hang out with me on tumblr @/Kelivision and on twitter as @/eyebrowmab
> 
> Expect chapter four next friday


	4. Chapter Four: Deathless Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec faces his two greatest fears.

Magnus had abandoned his glamor entirely, his gold-green eyes gleaming in the twilight. Years of training with the knights of Alicante meant he was more than able to keep up with Alec’s long-legged stride down the cobblestone streets. His sword was in one arm, but without the inscription of runes, it wasn’t much use in a battle against demons. He let Alec lead them, picking down demons in their path with arrows tipped in rune-inscribed cold iron. Magnus ran a few feet behind him and shot blue daggers of sparks at any demon that strayed from Alec’s line of fire. 

The blade was heavy in his right hand, much heavier than the magic thrumming through his veins. He felt weightless, if not for the heavy armor and useless weapons strapped to his body. 

As unsightly as it was, he was beginning to work up a sweat. He hated to admit it, but he was rusty. He hadn’t relied on his magic in a fight since he joined the knights. 

Magnus cursed Alexander’s lithe stride in front of him. The shadowhunter was barely breathing harder than he had before, even after an intense fall and with a possible head injury. His marks kept him alert and impossibly agile. In another, less life-or-death situation, Magnus may have had incredibly dirty thoughts about the potentials those runes might have in other areas. 

Even with the stress of _life-or-death_ thrumming under his skin, Magnus couldn’t help but stare at the silvery black of the runes on Alec’s exposed neck and think about the swirling black marks that must map the rest of his body.

He’d felt that body, the angles and planes, however briefly, in the training room that morning. That moment felt ages away, as far away in his memory as some of his antics from the previous century. Immortality was tricky, in that way. 

In his distraction remembering the way Alexander’s muscles had jumped under his palms and fingertips that morning, he lost his footing. 

Magnus heard his sword clater across the stones underfoot as if in a dream. His knees ached at the impact with the cobblestone. He took in a harsh breath of air and pushed himself up. His eyes met the back of Alec’s head a handful of paces in front of him. The lines of shops at the sides of the street were in different stages of crumbling. Magnus noted, in the back of his mind, that bits of shattered glass from a storefront window were digging into his palms. 

A moment after he’d fallen, Alec whirled around to see him, his bow raised. Magnus saw his eyes widen. In that moment of separation, Magnus was flanked by demons. A ravener demon rolled out from inside the shop to his right, its jaws clicking. Magnus twisted and shot it in the cluster of eyes on its head with a bolt of blue magic. As the demon snarled and twisted, it fell to the ground suddenly, an arrow protruding from the side of its slimy black body. 

The one body fell, and three more took its place. Magnus could have rattled off their names from entries in the codex, but in the moment, half-hunched over on the ground, all he saw was black and slimy and stinking, and used all of his remaining focus to direct clumsy spells of pain and piercing in their direction. He felt the weight of his armor even heavier as he tried to regain his footing. 

He clambered ungracefully to his feet, shooting out pulses of magical energy with his free hand. Another demon, this one as slimy as a slug, with long spikes lining its back, crawled around the other side of him, clicking loudly as it grew closer. Magnus grit his teeth and reached out to shove it back against the brick wall with a bolt of magic, only to see a handful of arrows buried in its grotesque face. 

Magnus met Alexander’s eyes again. Finally, his hair was damp with sweat.

Magnus gave him a rakish grin and pulled himself back to his full height. “We make a good team. Where did my -”

He glanced down. His fallen sword was on the ground at Alec’s feet, covered in demon ichor, as sticky and black as tar. His lip curled back in disgust. 

“Very well.” He said, brushing his trousers off. “I prefer magic, anyways.” 

He waved his hand and his armor fell away. He was faster and lighter without it. It would do little to protect him from the claws and teeth of demons, anyways.

“It’s so amazing to see in person,” Alexander breathed out, his voice so openly in awe.

His eyes drifted over Magnus’ sparking hands, the ichor on his clothes, but they quickly returned to his face. He was grinning, despite the destruction around them. This was truly his element. _If that’s what it takes..._

The demon towers that lined the walled city were as clear as glass without their magic, and the remaining light from the just-set sun cast everything in a shimmering blue glow. The street was quiet, and for one more delicious moment, it was just Magnus and Alexander and the sound of their breathing between them. 

And then, the clattering and scratching and clicking of another demon coming up the street towards them. 

Alec’s grin turned to a grimace, and they took off again towards the Accords hall.

\--

Alec awoke, a warm feeling deep in his belly. He was in his bed, in the Institute. His eyes were closed, but he felt the familiar silk sheets wrapped around him. The silk sheets were soft against his body. His _entire_ body. He was naked under the blankets.

Alec’s arms and legs stretching out as he yawned. His right hand brushed something hard and warm. His eyes shot open and he turned his head to see Magnus’ sleeping face on the pillow beside his own. His face was so much more relaxed in sleep, his brow softer and his mouth slacked. His lips were parted slightly and his cheek was smushed a little against the pillow. He was lying on his stomach, one arm cradling his head under the pillow, the other bent and relaxed in the space in between them. 

The morning’s sun filtered in through the windows. Rays of light cast their bodies in a soft golden glow. Instinctively, as easy as if he’d done it a hundred times, Alec reached out and twined their fingers together.

_You have. You’ve done it a hundred times,_ a voice whispered in the back of his head. 

Magnus made a soft noise of waking up, then rolled onto his side, reaching out until his free hand curled in Alec’s hair. Magnus’ arms pulled him closer, until their chests touched and their legs tangled. He breathed out a sleepy sigh, his lips tilting up at the corners. When he opened his eyes and met Alec’s his eyes glowed green and gold.

“Goodmorning, Alec,” he whispered in the soft space between them, just for them.

As if it were second nature, Alec cupped Magnus’ face and tilted his jaw up, meeting his lips for a kiss. The kiss was like honey, dripping with sweetness, and golden around the edges. Soft, easing over Alec’s body like a warm breeze. Magnus’ thumb brushed the soft skin behind Alec’s ear and he shuddered, pulling Magnus’ body closer. As their sheet pooled at their hips Alec could feel just how naked they both were.

Interrupting their kiss came a loud pounding on the door, and suddenly, the honey turned to amber, and Alec was stuck. He couldn’t pull away, not when the door slammed open or when his father stepped inside, his mother behind him.

Alec was standing next to the bed as he was lying in the bed next to Magnus, and he was Magnus and he was his father, screaming at him to get up. He was screaming at himself to pull away and he was himself pulling away, and he was someone else entirely, outside of his own body, watching.

The image of his father was sharp and contorted, looming over him. He was eight, and his father was shooting him cold glares every time he tripped during his practices. His mother’s disapproving sigh when he selected the bow as his weapon of choice, the cold shoulder of indifference his father gave him when he came back from his first successful mission because _Jace_ had saved the day, and _Alec_ was a coward, not a shadowhunter.

His father’s face, brows drawn together, his large hands shaking at his sides. His mouth open and shouting, the strike of his palm across Alec’s cheek.

“Who’s that?” his father demanded. _“Alexander,_ who is that? What are you doing?”

“Dad -” he started to say but his breath made no noise. The sound was swept away in the wind. 

He was in the bed again, and Magnus was gripping his hands. He placed their joined fists on Alec’s chest. The world got very blurry, and he stared into Magnus’ eyes.

_“Breathe, Alexander, breathe.”_

\--

The world dissolved around him, fragmenting and dissapaiting until all he saw was blue-black and twinkling.

Alec blinked once, twice, three times. Above him was the sky. He reached out to touch the ground below him, and found his hands were squeezing Magnus’ so hard the tips of his fingers were white.

He looked to the side and saw Magnus, kneeling, holding his hands. He had drying tear tracks on his dirt and ichor stained face, and his slit pupils were swimming in his eyes. He’d been crying, although now his mouth was set in a harsh line and his brows were drawn together.

Alec reached up and brushed his knuckles against Magnus’ cheek. “You’re so sad, Magnus,” he said, and his voice sounded groggy. “I didn’t know.”

Magnus closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Did you hear anything from my lesson?”

“That was Agramon?” Alec asked, still dazed. “It was nice, at first. Then it wasn’t.”

“Interesting observation.” Magnus said dryly, and he was refusing to look Alec in the eye. He hovered his hands over Alec’s chest, feeling with his magic for any serious injuries. “We can talk about what you saw and how we can strategize later. You need to get on your feet. There are still demons out here.”

Alec winced and pushed himself on to his elbows. His body felt, for the most part, completely fine. It was the bone-deep sadness and the feeling of being _stuck_ that welled in the back of his throat and the base of his ribcage that made scrambling to his feet so difficult. 

Magnus made to help him stand, but he waved him away, despite the part of him that wanted so desperately to take his hands and never let go. He needed both hands for his bow, anyway.

A shadow flicked across the ground below them and Alec looked up to see a winged demon the size of a horse flying low over head, black against the darkening sky. Alec raised his bow and let an arrow fly. It flew true, striking the demon in the abdomen, but the creature didn’t bank and turn around to attack them. It kept flying, out towards the edge of the city and beyond. Alec gave Magnus a confused glance. They both jumped back at the sound of a skinless humanoid demon scampering across the rooftops above them, in the same direction as the flying demon.

“Are they retreating?” Magnus asked. “Agramon pulled away from you. It was the only reason you woke up so quickly.”

Alec felt grim. In their path, they hadn’t seen another active knight or shadowhunter. They’d seen - and ignored - quite a few bodies of varying ages and states of duress. He thought of the old man, slumped forward with a spike protruding from his chest, positioned in front of a much smaller body, and tried not to let bile rise up in the back of his throat. 

From what they’d seen, it didn’t look like they were winning. 

“Let’s hope.” He said, placing his hand on Magnus’ shoulder. It was all he could do not to pull Magnus into his arms. 

He wasn’t sure he’d appreciate it after what he must have seen from Agramon.

Alec dropped his tense shoulders and nodded, steeling himself before they headed for the Accords hall.

\--

Alec’s bow fell to his side as he entered the large circular room, once more searching over the heads of Nephilim and mundanes and knights for his family. Magnus watched his face, unable to look at the bodies huddled together in the cramped room and their grieving faces.

He still felt like shaking from his encounter with the fear demon. He wanted to take a bath, wrap himself in a blanket, drink something cold and very strong, not necessarily in that order. On second thought, the idea of being surrounded by water made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His encounter with Agramon came the same way it did in his nightmares - the flash of a blade in his mothers hand, his step-father grabbing him by his clothes and screaming, blaming him for her death. The terribly loud silence and pressure of being shoved underwater and held there as he writhed. And finally, the explosion that destroyed his home and killed his step-father. 

He shivered and leaned into Alec’s space, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the hours of that day came upon him at once. He blinked and looked down at himself, realizing he was sparking like an extinguished fire.

_“Warlock,”_ Malichi’s accusatory exclamation rang out in the hall, and a chorus of eyes turned to Magnus’ face.

His eyes flicked to Alec when he tensed at his side, then flew to the man standing a few paces away from him with his arm outstretched.

After everything, years of hiding his mark, he’d completely forgotten to shield himself after stepping into a room full of mundanes and powerful Nephilim. He felt his own mouth parting in shock, and glanced away, but it was too late. They’d seen his eyes. They glowed in the dim fire and witchlight of the Accords hall. 

Alexander placed a hand on Magnus’ shoulder then stepped in front of him, his broad shoulders and firm stance shielding Magnus from the Consul. 

“He is our ally.” Alec’s voice rang out, deep and confident. “He saved my life twice today, and he is committed to protecting Alicante and the word of the Angel.”

In his panic, Magnus caught sight of Jace and Isabelle weaving through the crowd towards Alexander, the youngest Lightwood hot on their heels. Jace shot a withering look at a consul member approaching Magnus’s side. Magnus balled his hands into fists and swallowed, trying to maintain an image of cool indifference. 

_“He_ broke through the wards.” Malichi snapped. “He clearly has no respect for the Angel’s law if he broke through the wards.”

“The wards aren’t working. Did no one tell you? Someone really should have told you.” Magnus said.

Jace crossed his arms, mirroring his parabatai’s stance in front of Magnus. “We are under attack. We need all the help we can get.”

In the midst of Malichi’s fuming, a bright flash of light filled the Accords hall. In the center of the dias, right behind the Inquisitor, the yellow light faded away over the shape of a man.

Magnus’ brows drew together. When the light dissipated, the man stood tall at the center of the dias, his face wrought with concentration, a stele raised to the inside of his wrist. His hazel eyes searched over the crowd, and Magnus stepped forward, wanting them to meet his own. His heart surged for a moment in confusion, and his eyes darted back to his side. 

The Alec at his side met his eyes, glancing quickly between his and the Alec standing at the dias.

Alexander’s lips formed Magnus’ name soundlessly. Magnus gripped Alexander’s wrist.

A voice rang out in the hall and a frantic woman with grey-brown hair fell at the base of the Dias. “Stephen!” she called out, her voice breathless. “Stephen, it’s me!”

The Alec on the dias gasped and said quietly, “Oh, Amatis, no.”

His stele slashed across his wrist, and Alec disappeared. A girl half his size appeared in his place, with curly red hair tumbling around her shoulders and arms bare except for the one spent rune on her wrist.

Magnus heard Alec suck in a quick breath at his side. The girl’s speech went by in a blur. Magnus dropped his gaze to the stone tiled floor and breathed, focusing on the pull of his lungs and the warmth of Alexander’s wrist in his palm. After what felt like ages, Alec pulled him to a corner with his parabatai and sister. Jace and Isabelle explained the deal Consul Malichi made with Sebastian.

With all of the commotion, he hadn’t missed Aldertree’s body curled up at the base of the dias, his chest a mangled splotch of red against his black robes.

“Magnus, have you ever seen anything like it?” Isabelle asked.

Magnus shook his head. “I’ve seen projections that were good enough to look almost real, but none that could physically affect the space they projected into. Sebastian is… powerful.” _Too powerful._

Alec quickly caught his siblings up to speed with what had happened at Ragnor Fell’s home and the Morgenstern manor. Jace tensed at the mention of Valentine.

Isabelle explained the exchange - the city gives in to Sebastian’s demands, allows him to take over the Consul, slaughter Malichi and the other powerful members, and replace them with his loyal supporters, or he raizes the land and salts the earth, killing every innocent with his demonic army. They had until the next twilight. Less than 24 hours.

Magnus bit the inside of his cheek. He felt a wave of guilt at not being able to identify something wrong with him earlier. He was a warlock, he should have sensed something, done an uncovering spell, been more vigilant. He’d _known_ someone was inside Alicante, affecting the wards so the demons could enter the wards, but he hadn’t thought Alexander’s cousin would be the one. Sebastian had seemed so charming, even though Ragnor didn’t trust him.

Magnus ignored what Jace said next, looking over his shoulder at the girl speaking with a mundane woman with matching red hair.

\--

Clary’s idea seemed promising. 

The prospect of inviting downworlders into Alicante and allowing them to fight against Sebastian’s forces made the most sense while the wards were down. Downworlders were forbidden from entering The Glass City, and the wards kept anyone with demonic heritage from breaching the border.

Except for Magnus.

Alec peered at the man at his side, who was distracted by something in the crowd of people. Magnus was powerful enough to cross the wards, powerful enough to convince prominent shadowhunters and members of the Clave that he was a mundane. He’d killed multiple demons with a few strikes after an exhausting day training, riding, and breaking into and out of a burning building. Alec wanted to know what he was truly capable of.

“She just needs someone as an example. They wont let her fight because she isn’t eighteen yet.” Jace finished.

The Alliance rune plan was more symbolic than anything. Sharing strength, weapons, souls with downworlders. If the rune worked, downworlders in the nearby countryside might be willing to help the Clave in exchange for a seat on the consul or more sway in the next update of the Accords. The werewolves of Brocelind forest had already reached out about an alliance. It turned out, Sebastian wasn’t fond of downworlders, and his demon attacks had been wreaking havoc on their territory as well.

_If_ the rune worked. 

Alec’s mouth was open before he realized the full extent of the plan forming inside his head. He tore his eyes away from Magnus’ face and looked at Jace with conviction.

“I’ll - we’ll do it. Magnus and I.”

It was a risk. Steles didn’t react well to non-angelic skin. They could destroy young shadowhunters who weren’t ready, and turned mundanes into hulking undead people they called the Forsaken. Turning his stele on Magnus made his heart jump to his throat. However, he’d seen the power Clary had. The ruin she used to convince the consul of her angelic power was different from any glamor rune he’d ever seen. He’d been completely fooled by it. 

Alec had seen Magnus, standing on the dias, wearing a clean suit of gear. Any other time than now, and he would have shut down. He wouldn’t have been able to do anything but worry, shut down, and shut his friends and family out. Today, in this hour, after facing Agramon and surviving with Magnus’ help, he didn’t feel the same way about what that rune had meant for him. 

He was afraid, that was clear. It hurt him in his stomach every time he looked at Magnus’ cat eyes and thought of what they could be, after all this was all over. It was more than the way his heart started to race the closer they got. It was _more_ than the lovely stretch of his linen training shirt over his shoulders and muscled chest, more than the heat of his palms on his sides or his breath on his face. There was a possibility of that room in an institute with gold sheets and sun windows and Magnus’ clean and peaceful face.

It was a possibility, no matter how far off. And there was a chasm of _other, fear, different_ between him and that possibility. Alec was scared.

Diving into the abyss, no turning back, no proof and no backup plan.

It was a leap of faith. One of his biggest fears. Wasn’t that what they’d been working towards from the very beginning? A battle with Agramon was imminent if the Clave decided to let Clary’s plan complete itself. 

Alec knew if he faced his fear now, there would be nothing standing in his way the next time he faced the fear demon.

With Magnus at his side, he could jump.

Magnus looked up at the mention of his name. “Hm?”

Alec placed a hand on his shoulder. The simple gesture felt so _normal._ Alec ached for more, and for once, didn’t feel the need to shut himself down and punish himself for aching. 

“We’ll try out the Alliance rune, see if it works,” he explained. “You and me, sharing your powers. If it does work, we’ll start reaching out to downworld contacts to try to recruit as many downworlders as possible.” 

Magnus hummed in agreement. “And you don’t think the rune will hurt me?”

Alec looked up at Jace, who shrugged. “I trust Clary. I think she’s right. It could work.”

_“‘Could,’”_ Magnus murmured. “Very well. I trust you, Alexander. If it does work, I’ll start sending fire messages to the Warlock Council. I could recruit ten, maybe fifteen more.”

Alec grinned, and Magnus managed a weak smile in response. His brow was furrowed, and although he’d scrubbed his cheeks with his hands, there were still remnants of tear tracks and black ichor. Alec saw from the set of his shoulders and the tenseness in his face that he needed a good night’s sleep more than anyone.

Jace gave Alec the scrap of paper Clary had scrawled the rune on. The Alliance rune, or “to bind” had two complementary parts that had to be applied by the wearer’s downworld partner, and vice versa. Alec’s family gave him space as he instructed Magnus on applying marks.

Usually, a stele wouldn’t react to the touch of someone without angelic blood, but when Alec wrapped Magnus’ fingers around the adamas it glowed between them. It was as if the tool had sensed their intentions of using a mark for downworlders.

Alec chose the inside nook of his left elbow for the rune, as it was one of the few places on his body so-far unmarked. He rolled up his tunic sleeve and bared the skin for Magnus.

Magnus hesitated before he brought the point of adamas to Alec’s skin. “Does it hurt?” he asked. 

He shrugged his right shoulder, staring down at the pale spot of skin. It didn’t have a permanent rune, but there were still overlapping silvery scars from years of iratzes and other temporary marks. “It stings a bit, but I don’t really notice anymore.”

Magnus nodded and touched the tip to his skin. The familiar sizzle along with Magnus’ hand on his arm comforted him as Magnus carefully drew the new mark on his skin.

When he was finished with the second part of the mark, he handed Alec his stele back.

Alec leaned forward to draw the same rune on the inside of Magnus’ wrist, using his own rune for reference. 

Suddenly, all he could hear was blood rushing in his ears. His skin tingled where his hand gripped Magnus’ arm, the brush of their skin as he finished the sweeping arch of the rune. As soon as his stele left his skin, he felt a strange thrumming in his veins and his heart started to pound in his chest.

Magnus looked up at him, his face lighting up. He grinned. He looked stronger, brighter, the power from Alec’s angelic power rune clearing his eyes of exhaustion from the day they’d had. His smile was beautiful, and he was so _close._

“Magnus I -” he choked out. “I can’t breathe.” 

“Hey,” Magnus placed a hand on his arm, and his grip was grounding. “It’s okay.”

“Right.”He punched out a harsh breath. “Magnus, I need to know I’m doing the right thing. I thought… I think -”

They were still touching, his hands on Magnus’ arm, Magnus’ hand on his, and he was burning inside. The other man looked up at him. His confusion was written across his face, until the realization set in and he sighed, his eyes painful and _knowing_. 

Alec dropped his stele. It clatered to the ground, the noise ringing and echoing through the commotion in the hall. With everyone surrounding them, a good number of people watching to see the rune scrawled on Magnus’ arm.

“My greatest fear,” he breathed out as his thumb rubbed a small circle on the inside of Magnus’ wrist. 

“Alexander,” Magnus’ voice held a warning, a silent plea. 

“You saw me too.” Their faces were a few inches apart. 

There was a sadness there, a sadness of a young face with old, old eyes. “I did.”

He couldn’t take the dance anymore. The push and pull of one another, the unknown, the possibilities dangled in front of his eyes like fresh fruit and he was Tantalus. Unable to reach for Magnus, and unable to fall back into his parents' good graces. He was drowning in his desire for something more and _thirsty_ for it at the same time. 

Magnus, for all he had prodded at every chink in his carefully crafted armor, was holding back. He was warning Alec of all of the people watching and the permanence

Magnus’ sad eyes were trying to give Alec an out. They were leaving the door open for him, knowing he could decide to leave this behind if he wanted, and it would hurt him so, so much, but at least he would know what was going to happen.

There was no going back from what he was about to do. Alec had no conceivable clue of what would happen after. All he really knew was he wanted it, wanted it _so bad_ and didn’t want to keep himself from getting what he wanted this time. He didn’t want to make this sacrifice for the Clave, for his parents, his career. He wanted to jump for himself. 

Alec dropped Magnus’ arm and saw the flash of pain in his eyes for just a moment before he wound his hands in the front of Magnus’ shirt and pulled him forward, replacing the downward turn of his lips with his own.

Everything rushed away and the world dropped out beneath him.

Kissing Magnus was easy. He claimed those inches of space between them and Magnus gave it to him, opening up for him to to share one bubble of breaths and shaking hands and kisses. Their mouths fit together, dry from dehydration and bitter tasting of demon ichor and dry tears. Alec felt none of it, tasted none of it, only Magnus.

He pulled away for a moment, a breath, just long enough to look in Magnus’ eyes and see that sadness had disappeared. Magnus followed his mouth, pausing only to tear his eyes away from Alec’s mouth and look him in the eye. His eyes were heavy, and the gold-green of his cat eyes seemed even more luminescent.

It was all the permission he needed. Alec crashed back into him, sliding his hands up from the front of Magnus’ shirt to cup his jaw. Magnus’ hands looped around his waist, gripping him, holding him flush with his newfound shadowhunter strength. The heat of his hands bore through Alec’s gear. The heat built in his stomach until he felt part of himself burn away completely.

When he finally pulled away, he felt like the world had passed by and no time had passed at all. Magnus stared back at him, his cheeks flush, lips rosy and still parted by surprise. Alec realized his hands were sparking green. 

“What did I just do?” Alec wondered aloud.

_“Alec.”_

It was Maryse. Alec flinched back, but he didn’t pull his hands away from where they rested at where Magnus’ shirt gave way to his throat. “Enough,” he replied, sighing, “just - _enough.”_

He was lucky enough that only a small crowd of citizens had gathered around his display with Magnus. He let go of the warlock and raised his hands, showing the green sparks flying from his fingertips. He waved his hand like he’d seen Magnus do and pointed a finger at the ground. A weak shower of sparks erupted from his finger, leaving a small patch of soot on the stone.

“It works, I guess.” he said to Magnus sheepishly. He’d been expecting more theatrical powers. Instead, he just felt a strange heat in his veins and an uncomfortable stinging at the ends of his fingers.

“With a bit more practice,” Magnus grit out. “It’s not just waving around and pointing.”

Maryse grabbed Alec by the shoulder and hissed in his ear, “This is not the end of this conversation, Alexander,” then stormed off into the crowd.

Jace and Clary notified consul Malichi, who requested a few feats of Magnus to prove he had gained speed, swiftness, and training from Alec’s half of the Alliance rune. When Magnus dropped the seraph blade handed to him, Malichi commented that _perhaps Jace should have been the one to test the rune out_. Alec didn’t pretend the remark didn’t sting him a bit, but he couldn’t stop smiling despite himself. 

Robert Lightwood hadn’t attempted to speak to him yet. His mother’s stern tone and his father’s absence weighed on him, but he couldn’t help but feel lighter than air. When he caught eyes with Isabelle in the crowd, she grinned at him ear-to-ear. 

Halfway back to the Lightwood Manor, with his family’s presence and Magnus acting as his shadow, the effects of the mark and his adrenalin wore off and the lightness left his step. He noticed Magnus’ footfalls began to click against the cobbled street, no longer calling on Alec’s soundless mark. 

His parents were stone cold and silent the entire walk back, and Alec was excruciatingly aware of his younger brother Max walking in between them. He knew as soon as Max rushed off to his room when they arrived at the manor, he’d be stuck with the festering rage of both of his parents. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting - disowning, yelling, a fight, a flogging perhaps. He hated the stinging silence, the anticipation of a storm. Knowing was better than not knowing.

He realized he’d guessed right. His mother and father stood still in the doorway until Max had ran - fled - upstairs, and Jace and Izzy disappeared with twin sympathetic looks. Alec didn’t blame them for not wanting to be around when things exploded. When the doors closed upstairs, his parents turned to him and he flinched.

His father’s voice was as cold and sharp as a blade. “Why?” he demanded, folding his arms across his barrel chest. “Why did you do it?”

Alec balled his hands into fists at his side. “I needed you to know. I’m sick of hiding. I was sick of waiting for you to find out and do _this._ ”

“You embarrassed us.” his mother hissed. “You could have done anything to tell us, and you chose to do the one thing that would have all of Alicante gossiping about our family for _weeks.”_

Magnus stepped forward from where he’d been nervously hovering by the coat rack. “If you’ll excuse me for butting in -” Magnus began. 

Alec’s parents shut him down with a synonymous _”We don’t.”_ They turned their unified front back to Alec. 

“Why is the gossip such a bad thing? I can’t - it’s nothing -” _It’s nothing to be ashamed of._ He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Alec swallowed and stole himself. “I’m not going to be ashamed.”

Maryse huffed a humorless laugh. “Oh, you better not. I wouldn’t want you to regret it.” 

She stormed off down the hall towards the master suite and Robert gave him a seething look, as if all of this was his fault alone.

With a sinking feeling, Alec thought that it was. 

Robert glanced at Magnus, his eyes flitting up and down his form and landing once more on his Mark, his cat eyes. He grunted and levied Alec with a stare that would have made many nephilim cower in fear. Alec clenched his jaw. He knew what was coming would hurt more than any blow he’d ever endured, even after his heart had stopped that afternoon.

When Robert poke, his voice was cool and quiet. Alec barely heard him when he murmured, “You _should_ be ashamed of yourself.”

It took all of Alec’s willpower not to let tears fall as he stormed off towards the bath.

\--

A wooden pail of warm water and a clean towel and washcloth had been set out before his door. Caked in ichor and filth, Magnus ached for something more thorough, but he wouldn’t dare follow Alexander to the bathroom on the first story of the manor. He knew it would be fancy - charmed to stay hot and clean, smelling sweetly of expensive perfumes and soaps - but he still had a terrible feeling in his gut of someone who’d just witnessed something he shouldn’t have. He felt guilty for not being able to stop Alexander’s parents from lashing out at him, and even guiltier for watching Alec’s face fall at every word his parents had spoken. It was a deeply personal and troubling moment, and he’d stood there, unable to take any of the burden off of Alec’s shoulders.

He sighed as he stripped away his tunic, weapons belt and trousers, leaving them in a pile on the floor outside of the guest room. No amount of scrubbing would be able to make the garments worth keeping. He sat on the wooden floor and used the washcloth and towel to rinse the ichor, dirt, sweat, and tears off of his face and body. When he finally felt clean, he pulled on the pair of loose linen sleeping pants that lie folded at the foot of the bed.

He crawled under the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. In the dark, he reached up to touch his lips. They were still warm and swollen from the bruising kiss Alexander had gifted him in front of the entire Clave.

He closed his eyes and hummed to himself. In his centuries of life, he’d seen

He was used to being a well-kept secret. As much pain as it was bringing Alec now, he felt a burst of pride in his shadowhunter for refusing to hide. 

_His shadowhunter._

As his smile quirked at the thought, he heard a soft knock at his door. Magnus leaned up on his elbows and waved a hand. The door shot open. Alexander stepped inside and closed the door behind him soundlessly.

“Speak of the devil,” he hummed. 

Alec raised an eyebrow as he looked Magnus up and down. The moonlight from the window was dim, but Magnus could see Alexander’s eyes hover at his waist where the blankets pooled and the curves of his bare chest. His lids were low, and his hair hung over his forehead, damp from bath water.

“The devil?” he breathed out, and Magnus revealed in how low he always spoke when they were together, as if the words were meant only for him in the most true way.

“I was just alone to my thoughts,” Magnus breathed. He pulled his blanket back and padded over on the wooden floor to meet his shadowhunter.

“You’re being cryptic again.” Alexander said.

He reached up and touched a strand of Magnus’ hair, rubbing it between his fingers. His knuckle brushed against Magnus’ cheekbone. The gesture was so simple, so gentle, it made Magnus weak at the knees.

“Can you even comprehend the things you’re able to do to me?” Magnus asked. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, no matter how badly he wanted to reach out and place his palms on the planes of muscles so visible under the thin white tunic Alexander was wearing. “In all my years, no one has done for me as you’ve done, and I’ve only known you for two days.”

Being vulnerable was difficult. He’d had more opportunities than he could count to be hurt in his immortal life. He’d worn his heart on his sleeve, his every desire and secret out in the open for his lovers and friends and kin, and he’d been hurt. The years were passing, and in the past handful of decades, Magnus had found himself closing off to everything. Keeping his memories, secrets, and desires close to his chest worked when it came to protecting himself from being hurt. But it didn’t work when men like Alexander pushed into his guard and buried themselves in his heart. 

Although, there weren’t men like Alexander, not really. Alexander was so different, so special. No one else was so unintentionally honest with their feelings. Alexander did everything in his power to mask how he felt when he was hurt, when he was nervous or scared but Magnus could see right through it. He’d known when their eyes had first met that Alexander was going to become an enormous problem in his attempts at keeping his heart locked off.

Alec tore his eyes away and stared at the floor. “If the Clave accepts Clary’s plan, we may only have one day left.”

Magnus bit his lip. “Never say never.”

There was a heavy pause. Magnus felt himself leaning forward on his toes, as if gravity itself was tugging their hearts closer together.

Alexander’s eyes were wide when they looked down at him, hazel brown shining with unshed tears. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Magnus sighed. “Alexander, I don’t want to rush things with you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Alec’s cheeks were red, and his eyes darted once more to the floor between them. “I meant _sleep._ Just sleep. I can’t stand the thought that this all might be for nothing. If I can lie in bed with you, and wake up in the morning to the sun just once, then all of this will be worth it.”

His words stole the air out of Magnus’ throat, and he did the only thing he knew how to do to get the air back. He closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.

This kiss was different from the two they’d shared before. It didn’t have the same urgency or bruising heat and tension. It didn’t taste of ichor or tears or dirt, but water and mint. It was as warm as a summers day and smelled of Alec’s still-damp skin and the remaining essence of soap. It was slow, but not sensual. It was lingering, promising something more, another time where there wasn’t so much hanging over their heads.

Magnus wanted to taste every flavor Alexander’s mouth had to offer. He wanted simple, happy kisses and long, slow, languid ones that would make his knees shake and his back arch. He settled himself by sliding his hands down Alec’s arms, stopping briefly to squeeze his biceps, then finally coming to rest at his calloused hands. He pulled him closer, then stepped back, towards the bed.

“Lie down,” he murmured.

Alexander followed him swiftly, lying very still on his back. Magnus pulled the blanket to cover them to their chests, curled on his side and reached out for Alexander’s hand. He gripped it, kept the touch between both their hands despite knowing how badly the both of them wanted more. Alexander squeezed back with bruising strength. Magnus closed his eyes, and drifted off to his first dreamless sleep in months to the sound of Alexander’s soft breathing and the rise and fall of the other body beside him.

It was enough. It was more than enough, and it promised more, in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every commentor gets my everlasting love and happiness, and encourages me to write the last two chapters of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me:  
> twitter at @eyebrowmab   
> (art) instagram @kelse_draws  
> deviantart (commissions) @kelse-draws  
> tumblr @kelivision
> 
> Expect chapter two sometime next week!


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